


Christmas Trilogy Series

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Adult Content, Domestic Discipline, Established Relationship, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-21
Updated: 2005-05-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 110,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. A Rat, however...





	1. Christmas Trilogy I:  Red

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult 

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimers: They're mine and I own them and I don't know what this "X-Files" business is all about but I can tell you this Chip Cartler person is going to hear from my attorneys. 

Warning: m/m interaction, discipline, spanking, conspicuous eggnog consumption 

Status: New/Series. Part One of the Christmas Trilogy. Precedes "Green" and "Gold". 

Summary: Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse. A Rat, however... 

Note: Krycek has two arms. 

Dedication: For Our Jas. Feel better soon, darling. 

 

Red 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Alex Krycek moved soundlessly through the inky darkness like the meticulously trained operative he was. Not a single motion was wasted; sinew, muscle and bone all performed in perfect synchrony as he infiltrated the target zone. Not a single thought was allowed to enter his mind save one. The only one that mattered. Complete the mission and get out alive. 

 

He stayed low to the floor as he moved like a silent, deadly cat, pausing occasionally, listening for any sound. His every sense was on full alert, his every nerve pulsed, thrummed, his breathing was carefully regulated. The lightweight black clothing he wore allowed him a full range of motion. It was made in Russia, in a building that did not appear on any city map. It was not available for sale anywhere in the world. Alex stopped and lifted his head. He reached up and removed his night-vision goggles, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one gloved hand and replaced them, his eyes expertly sweeping over the room and its strange collection of objects as he began to move again. 

 

His heart rate increased as he began to near his goal and he forced himself to stop. He took several deep, calming breaths, mentally berating himself. Come on, Alexei, get it together! You're so close now! 

 

Just as he began to move forward again, he heard a noise. He froze, becoming a black-clad statue, his muscles quivering with the effort of remaining absolutely still. He waited for several minutes, listening intently, his stomach doing an uneasy roll at the thought of being discovered. He swallowed hard. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if he were found out now. At last, he felt safe enough to proceed and he began to crawl again, his lithe, well-toned body slicing easily through the darkness. 

 

He caught his breath as the target loomed in his sights. He lowered his shoulders toward the floor, supporting himself on his elbows as he gracefully maneuvered himself down onto his stomach. The target glowed in the unearthly blue light of the night-vision goggles. It was about four feet around, and square. He gingerly reached out and pressed a trembling hand against it. He swallowed, his dry throat making a tiny clicking noise. One wrong move now... 

 

He reached around to the small pack he wore on his back and removed the portable X-ray scanner. He held it in his hands for a moment, and, jaded as he was, marveled at the technology. He pressed the button, activating the device and illuminating the small screen set into it. He carefully placed the scanner on the side of the target, chewing his lip as he concentrated on the task at hand. He began to move the scanner from left to right, rolling it centimeter by centimeter along the flat surface, his eyes riveted on the screen. A moment later, a faint image began to appear. His heart pounded as he leaned forward for a closer look. He squinted at it, almost forgetting to breathe. He could almost make it out... what was it... 

 

He yelped in pain and surprise as strong fingers suddenly seized his left earlobe and hauled him to his feet. His eyes widened behind the night-vision goggles as he saw a large shape looming in front of him. The shape looked angry. The shape looked like Walter. Alex gulped. The fingers tugged insistently at his earlobe. 

 

"Ow..." 

 

"Hand them over, Alex." 

 

Reluctantly, Alex removed the goggles, squinting a little in the sudden brightness of the overhead light. Walter took the goggles. Alex had time to ruminate for a second on just how sexy Walter looked in his green and blue plaid bathrobe, the one Alex had given him last Christmas, when he was startled out of his brief reverie by another sharp yank to his earlobe. 

 

"Ow," he whined again, "Walter..." 

 

Alex twisted and turned, trying to loosen Walter's grip, but to no avail. Walter watched him as he wriggled fruitlessly, his delectable bottom lip already set in a pout, looking more like a little boy playing Ninja than a full-grown and very accomplished assassin. 

 

"The X-ray machine, too, Alex," Walter continued. 

 

His voice was low and calm. Reasonable, even. Alex's blood ran cold. He was going to get it. Oh boy, was he going to get it. He meekly handed over the machine. Walter released his ear. Alex rubbed it as he watched Walter take the equipment into the kitchen and drop it into the trash can. 

 

"Oh, Walter," Alex pleaded, "not my Israeli night-vision goggles! Those cost four thousand dollars!" 

 

"That's enough," Walter said as he returned to the living room. "You're in enough trouble as it is. Now, what other toys do you have on you?" 

 

Alex shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly fascinated with the carpet. It really was more of a champagne than a beige, he thought. And the pile, really more of a medium than a shag. He poked at it with the toe of one soft-soled black boot. He hated shag carpet. Walter's hand grasped Alex's chin gently but firmly, halting that train of thought. 

 

"Now, boy. All of them." 

 

Alex swallowed hard. Walter only called him that when he was in serious trouble. Serious. He slowly removed his pack and handed it to his lover. Walter took it into the kitchen and began removing its contents, lining the items up on the counter. 

 

"Let's see what we have here... frequency jammer, spy camera, wireless mike, chewy chocolate-chip granola bar..." 

 

He glanced up, his eyebrows raised. 

 

Alex shrugged a little, eyeing the carpet again. 

 

"Even spies get hungry," he mumbled. 

 

Alex winced as the rest of his obscenely expensive equipment went into the trash can and his chocolate-chip granola bar went into Walter's pocket. Walter returned to where Alex stood, eyes humbly downcast, next to the Christmas tree. Alex watched helplessly as Walter zeroed in on the target and hefted it, his brown eyes looking sternly at Alex over the huge red bow on the top of the box. Walter carried the beautifully gift-wrapped box into the mud room, set it down and closed the door. He crossed the living room and stood in front of his errant lover. 

 

"You know what to do," he said simply. 

 

One look at the firm set of Walter's jaw and Alex's pleas died on his lips. Walter set great store by Alex learning from his mistakes and accepting the consequences for them, and Alex knew from experience that arguing would only make it worse. He nodded and went to stand in the corner near the fireplace. There was a small spot on the wall there that was almost imperceptibly paler than the surrounding paint. Alex sighed and pressed his nose against it as he had so many times before, the friction caused by his slight movements displacing more microscopic amounts of pigment. 

 

Alex made a rather pathetic figure as he pressed into the corner, his shoulders slumped. Walter looked at him, love swelling his heart even as his mind told him what needed to be done. Walter went over to the fireplace and leaned down to open the flue. He took the long tube of fireplace matches from its home on the mantelpiece and lit the pile of hardwood already stacked in the grate. Alex turned his head slightly to see what Walter was doing and was rewarded with two sharp swats to his vulnerable backside. He jumped and whimpered, but quickly put his nose back into the corner, resisting the urge to rub the sting away. Satisfied with the fires burning both in the fireplace and in his lover's bottom, Walter returned to the kitchen and the reason he had come downstairs at two in the morning in the first place—a tall glass of eggnog. 

 

He drank it slowly, the silence between the two men growing heavy as one awaited punishment and the other considered it. Walter placed the glass in the sink and walked toward Alex, pausing beside the small loveseat near the fireplace. 

 

"Come here, Alex." 

 

Alex turned slowly, knowing he deserved what was coming but dreading it. He walked to the center of the living room and stood, hands clasped behind his back, head lowered. He couldn't see the softness in Walter's eyes as he gazed at his Rat, at the young man whose life he had been working so earnestly to turn around. Walter smiled a little, remembering those first, hard days. Remembered Alex, fearless in the face of the Consortium, but trembling in his embrace. Remembered Alex, frightened and mistrustful, ready to flee at the first sign of adversity. Ready to retreat to his dark and familiar former world, the thought of cold steel and cigarette smoke somehow less terrifying than intimacy, than being known, being understood, being loved. Walter sighed, wanting nothing more than to kiss the top of that dark head, breathe deep and savor the clean, faintly musky smell that could only be Alex. He steeled himself for the task ahead. They had gotten through those days just the way they would get through this night, with love, patience and perseverance. 

 

"Alex," Walter said quietly as he moved to sit down on the loveseat. He patted the place beside him. "Come here." 

 

His head still lowered, Alex went over to the loveseat and stood before Walter. He raised his eyes briefly, then dropped his gaze again. 

 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. It hurt Walter's heart to see the pain in those green eyes. 

 

"I know, Rat," he replied, his voice full of emotion. "I know you are. But we have to talk about what you did. Take off those gloves and boots and sit down beside me." 

 

Alex obeyed, stripping off his gloves and removing his boots. He curled up in the corner of the loveseat, tucking his feet, clad in their thick black socks, under him. He picked at the knee of his form-fitting pants, unable to look Walter in the eye. Walter placed his hand over Alex's. 

 

"Look at me, Alex." 

 

Alex looked up, his expression expectant and nervous. Walter continued to hold Alex's hand as he spoke, not wanting to spook the younger man. Despite all of his efforts, Alex still found discussing his wrongdoing and the reasons for punishment the most difficult. Walter knew Alex could have taken the harshest discipline without a whimper, but talking about his feelings, hearing that what he had done had affected those close to him, was still extremely hard for him. Walter gently rubbed his thumb against the back of Alex's hand, not wanting him to bolt as he had done at times in the past. Walter remembered many nights spent unpacking Alex's bags ten minutes after everything Alex owned had been thrown into them in a blind panic, nights spent soothing and reassuring the scared young man, talking until his voice was hoarse. 

 

Now he looked into Alex's eyes, his stern expression marking the seriousness of the matter before them. He was tired, and "Just spank him and go to bed," sidled to the forefront of his thoughts, to be firmly shoved aside. No. He was going to handle this the right way. He had to make sure Alex understood why he was being punished, not just whack his ass and send him to bed. 

 

Walter cleared his throat. His words were soft but it pained him to have to say them. 

 

"I'm disappointed in the choices you made tonight, Alex." 

 

Alex bit his lip and tears sprang to his eyes. He looked up at Walter, wounded. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm sorry I tried to find out what my Christmas gift is." He looked down. "I knew it was wrong and I knew you wouldn't want me to snoop, but information has always been my life, my way of staying ahead, staying alive. I couldn't stand not knowing." He paused, ashamed, and gave a sad, short laugh. "Once a Rat, always a Rat, huh?" 

 

Walter's fingers cupped his chin and tilted his face up. 

 

"That's enough of that, boy," he growled. "You've come a long way, Alex, and I won't listen to you tear yourself down. Is that clear?" 

 

Alex's eyes were bright. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat. 

 

"Yes, sir," he whispered. Walter released Alex's chin and rested his hand on his shoulder. 

 

"This isn't about the Christmas present, Alex." 

 

Alex looked up, confused. 

 

"It isn't?" 

 

Walter glanced toward the mud room door, behind which the big box sat, wrapped in its green and red paper. 

 

"No, Alex, it isn't. It's about the way you used to live your life and the way you live it now. It's about the decisions you make, the decisions that affect not just you, but Fox and myself as well." 

 

Alex sucked in his breath at the mention of the third member of their household. He glanced toward the stairs, his chest tightening at the mere sound of his name. Fox. The enigmatic and beautiful man he had loved and longed for, so many nights spent alone, dreaming of hazel eyes and chestnut hair. Sometimes Alex still couldn't quite believe that he was here, in their home. In his home. Our home, he thought, Walter's face suddenly shimmering before him as his eyes filled with tears and began to overflow. He roughly scrubbed the tears away with the back of his hand. 

 

"Walter," he said, his voice shaking. "Please... please. Anything," he paused and moistened his dry lips. "I'll take anything, whatever you want to give me. Punish me, strap me with your belt. Tell me I'm bad and evil and worthless," he continued, his voice rising and becoming more uneven as he gathered momentum. "Tell me I'm a sorry son of a bitch, that I'm irredeemable, that I'm a liar and a murderer. Tell me anything, just don't..." a tear slid down his cheek as he fought to get the words out, "just don't tell me you're disappointed in me." These last words were spoken so softly that Walter had to lean forward to hear them. 

 

Alex huddled there in the corner of the loveseat, shaking, wondering if this was it. One fuck-up too many. The end of the line. He didn't even see Walter move. One second he was sitting there, trying to blink away the tears, his arms wrapped around his knees, and the next he was being held against Walter's broad chest, those strong arms holding him tightly. He nestled his head into the hollow of Walter's neck and a sob escaped him. Walter rubbed Alex's back through the lightweight black material of his shirt. 

 

"Alex, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?" He felt Alex nod slightly. 

 

"Good. I am not disappointed in you. I am disappointed in what you did, and there's a difference. I love you, Alex, and I believe in you. This is just another rough patch and we're going to get through it together. Okay?" 

 

Alex sat up and nodded again. He swallowed hard. 

 

"Yes, sir," he said. "I understand." 

 

Relief surged inside him as he processed what Walter had said to him. Not disappointed in me. I fucked up, but he still believes in me. Still wants me. 

 

"Do you really?" Walter asked. "Do you truly understand that I love you and I will never, ever give up on you? That I can be angry or sad or disappointed because of something you did, but never because of you?" 

 

Alex nodded again. 

 

"Good," Walter repeated. "Now." 

 

His gaze became more stern and Alex gulped a little as Walter swung into full lecture mode, his serious eyes fastened on Alex's. 

 

"I am not going to punish you for trying to find out what's in the box. I am going to punish you for being dishonest—" 

 

"I wasn't!" Alex protested. "I admit what I did was wrong, but I didn't lie. I didn't deny doing it." 

 

Walter frowned. 

 

"What did I say to you this afternoon when I caught you sitting beside the tree, shaking boxes?" 

 

Alex colored and looked down. He mumbled something. 

 

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that." 

 

"I said, you told me not to snoop and not to touch the presents until Christmas morning." 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"And what did you say?" 

 

Alex mumbled again. 

 

"Alex..." 

 

Alex looked up quickly. Walter's expression brooked no argument. 

 

"I said I promise not to snoop and not to touch the presents." 

 

"And did you keep that promise?" 

 

Alex's voice was a whisper. 

 

"No, sir." 

 

"Promises are meant to be kept, Alex, not broken as soon as I go upstairs and go to sleep. Can you think of any other promises you broke tonight?" 

 

Alex thought for a minute. He realized where Walter was going with this and he tensed. Oh, shit. He opened his mouth and closed it again. It really wasn't about the Christmas present. It was about much more than that. Walter watched him intently. He could see the internal struggle reflected in that beautiful, worried face, and he waited for the outcome, hope growing in his heart. Finally, Alex lifted his face and spoke, his voice tinged with shame and regret. 

 

"I promised not to use the things I learned in the Consortium. I promised not to bring any of the tools I used as a spy or as an assassin into this house. I promised not to lie or to use subterfuge to get what I want. I promised... not to break my promises. I messed up, Walter. I'm sorry," he finished simply. 

 

Fearfully, he looked up into Walter's face. The look he saw there told him everything. He had done the right thing. 

 

"That's right, Alex," Walter said softly. "That's why I am going to punish you. Because I love you and I know how much you want this new life, how much you want to truly leave the old life behind. You promised not to lie, not to spy and not to use your Consortium skills, and you broke those promises." 

 

Alex nodded sadly. Walter placed a hand on Alex's knee. 

 

"Come on now, let's get this over with." 

 

Alex stood and began removing the tight, black clothing. He began to place it on a nearby chair but, at a warning look from Walter, reluctantly carried it into the kitchen and dropped in into the wastebasket before returning to stand naked before his lover. Strong hands guided Alex face down over Walter's large thighs. He closed his eyes and waiting for the punishment to begin. Walter's soft voice above him seemed strangely soothing as he waited for the first swat. 

 

"Just my hand, Alex. I think you'll get the point effectively enough." 

 

Alex nodded just as Walter's broad hand cracked down across his bare butt. He winced and kicked a little as another blow landed on the same spot, a little harder this time. 

 

Walter was nothing if not thorough and efficient when it came to spanking. He methodically turned both of Alex's pale buttcheeks bright red, his hard, flat hand coming down again and again. Alex tried not to tense but it was a losing battle as he barely had time to recover from one blazing swat before the next one followed. He tried not to wriggle and squirm, determined to take the punishment he had earned, but it proved nearly impossible to remain still as Walter blistered his ass with vigor and determination. Alex was grateful for Walter's hand positioned on the small of his back, keeping him firmly in place. 

 

Walter's hand was beginning to hurt, but he had to make sure the lesson was learned and remembered. He landed two smart whacks to each of Alex's sit spots, noting the muffled sob that followed. Alex was close now. Walter spanked harder, leaning down toward the whimpering man over his lap. 

 

"What is this punishment for, Alex?" he asked. 

 

Alex was silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice cracking as he fought back tears. 

 

"F-for breaking my promises! For... for... ow, Walter, please—" 

 

"Almost over now, Alex. Tell me. Tell me why you're getting a spanking." 

 

Alex gulped in air, clinging to the edge of the cushion as Walter walloped his bare butt. 

 

"For not keeping my promises! F-for going back to my old ways, for spying! For the goggles and the X-ray machine and the frequency jammer and the clothes and—" he broke off, sobbing too hard to speak. 

 

"What the hell is going on down there?" 

 

Walter paused and looked up. Fox stood at the top of the stairs in his boxer shorts, his hair tousled and sticking out in every direction. Fox rubbed his eyes and looked down into the living room. He saw Alex, naked, over Walter's knee, the flames from the fireplace reflecting on the reddened skin in what he knew from experience was a very apt representation of the way Alex felt right now. Fox sighed and went into the upstairs bathroom, rummaged in the medicine cabinet for the bottle of aloe, and went into the bedroom to await his lovers. 

 

Walter lay the last set of spanks across the tops of Alex's thighs, just under the curve of his buttocks. Alex yowled, all pretense at dignity gone. He sobbed loudly, barely aware that the spanking had now stopped. He felt himself being gathered up into Walter's arms and he wrapped his arms around Walter's neck, burying his face in his shoulder. He cried and cried, the fabric of Walter's robe quickly becoming saturated with tears. Walter rubbed Alex's back and spoke soothingly to him, using the few words of Russian that he knew, which always seemed to help calm his Rat. 

 

Finally, Alex's sobs quieted, except for the occasional hitching breath. At length, he raised a tear-streaked face. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I really am. I won't do it again." 

 

Walter considered him gravely. 

 

"Is that a promise?" 

 

Alex paled, then lowered his lashes for a moment, thinking hard. He raised his eyes back up to Walter's, gazing into them intently. 

 

"Yes." 

 

Walter hugged Alex tightly, his hand gently touching the superheated skin of Alex's bottom. Walter hissed in sympathy. 

 

"I don't think you'll be sitting comfortably for a couple of days, Rat," he said, wishing he hadn't had to punish Alex. 

 

"I deserved it," Alex said quietly. "I know I did." 

 

"Yes, you did," Walter agreed. "Come on, let's get upstairs and get some gel on that, and then let's get some sleep." 

 

They stood, lingering for a moment by the fire, Alex keeping his butt well turned away from the hearth. There was already more than enough heat back there without any more help. Walter paused, drawing Alex close again. He kissed him lovingly, stroking Alex's cheek with his fingertips as he released him. 

 

"I love you, Alex," he said softly. "We love you." 

 

Alex's eyes were green light refracted through a prism of tears. 

 

"I love you, too," he whispered. "I love you both." 

 

Walter grinned. 

 

"Let's get upstairs before Fox starts to pout." 

 

He started for the stairs but stopped as Alex put a hand on his arm. 

 

"Um, Walter?" Alex's voice was tentative. 

 

"What is it, Rat?" 

 

Alex glanced toward the door of the mud room, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

 

"Um... my present..." he began, biting his lip a little. "You won't... I mean..." 

 

"Will you still get it?" 

 

Alex nodded and looked down. 

 

"I understand if you take it back," he said, almost inaudibly. 

 

Walter grinned again and startled Alex by sweeping him up off his feet and tossing him over his shoulder, careful to avoid contact with the smaller man's red, swollen backside. 

 

"Take it back?" he said incredulously as he mounted the stairs. "After all the trouble we went through to get it? Not on your life!" 

 

Alex raised his head, his eyes wide. 

 

"You mean, it's—" 

 

"Ah, ah," Walter said warningly. "No questions and no more snooping. If I catch you poking around the presents again you're going to wake up Christmas morning to a lump of coal. Understood?" 

 

"Loud and clear," Alex said, clinging to the sash of Walter's robe as he bounced along the hallway over his lover's shoulder. He sighed as he was deposited gently on the big bed, his head pillowed on Fox's lap, Walter's fingers beginning to gently spread the cool aloe gel over his punished bottom. He raised his head and looked back at Walter, then up at Fox. Their eyes shone back at him, full of love, full of promise. Alex lay his head back down on Fox's lap and closed his eyes. 

 

"Loud and clear," he repeated softly.


	2. Christmas Trilogy II:  Green

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimers: They're mine and I own them and I don't know what this "X-Files" business is all about but I can tell you this Chip Cartler person is going to hear from my attorneys. 

Warning: m/m interaction, discipline, spanking, pouting, crying 

Status: New/Series. Part Two of the Christmas Trilogy series. Follows "Red" and precedes "Gold". 

Summary: Someone's being naughty... 

Note: Krycek has two arms. 

Dedication: For Our Jas. Wishing you a speedy recovery. 

 

Green 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Fox awoke that Sunday morning to a cold, empty bed. He blearily opened his eyes and looked around the bedroom, then squinted at the clock. It was nearly ten in the morning. Why hadn't they woken him up? He grumbled as he swung his long legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. The sounds of cooking and conversation drifted up the stairs, along with the smell of bacon and eggs. 

 

He shrugged into his robe and stomped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Walter's deep laugh carried up to him over the sound of the running water and he scowled into the mirror. His foul mood was threatening to work itself into a full-fledged snit. He rinsed the brush and stuffed it back into the holder, then scrubbed at his face roughly with a wet washcloth. He smoothed his hair with damp fingertips, not bothering with the hairbrush. Why should he? It wasn't as though they would notice. Seemed like lately Walter and Alex only had eyes for one another. Why else would they be downstairs in the warm, homey kitchen, cooking breakfast together, while he lay upstairs, left alone in the big empty bed? 

 

Fox was in full pout mode as he entered the kitchen, hands stuffed mulishly into the pockets of his striped bathrobe. Walter sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in the Sports section, spearing a forkful of scrambled eggs from the plate beside him. Alex sat, feet hooked around the rungs of his chair, poring over Newsweek as he spooned up Muesli and fruit. 

 

"Morning," Walter said, glancing up from his newspaper. 

 

Alex looked up from his magazine and smiled. 

 

"Morning, sleepyhead." 

 

Fox scowled, not returning their greetings. 

 

"Why didn't you wake me up?" 

 

Walter shrugged and reached for a piece of bacon. 

 

"You were sleeping so soundly, we hated to wake you. Have some bacon and eggs, Alex cooked plenty." 

 

Fox grunted and stomped over to the refrigerator. He opened the door and started to reach for the milk, then paused. He saw the large pizza box on the bottom shelf and an idea came to him. He removed the box from the refrigerator and put it on the kitchen counter, casting a surreptitious glance at Walter. Walter didn't notice, munching thoughtfully on his eggs as he turned the page of his paper, looking for the hockey scores. Fox reached back into the refrigerator for a can of Coke, popping the top and taking a big, greedy gulp. He closed the refrigerator door and glanced over his shoulder as he opened the pizza box. He looked down at the pizza. The triple-cheese and sausage special had looked a lot more appetizing the night before. Fox looked longingly at the bacon and eggs, his resolve momentarily weakening, then turned obstinately back to the pizza. 

 

He pulled out a large piece and turned toward Walter and Alex as he took a huge bite, chomping determinedly even as his stomach protested. He just knew Walter was going to have something to say about this. Fox had endured many a lecture on taking proper care of himself and thanks to Walter's perseverance, had actually managed to introduce a modicum of nutrition into his previously haphazard diet. Fox took another big bite of pizza, smacking his lips loudly, and waited for Walter to notice. 

 

Walter glanced up from the paper and then back down, reaching for another slice of toast. 

 

"You ought to microwave that, Fox," he said, searching for the continuation of the article he was reading. "Take the chill off." 

 

Fox forced himself to finish the large slice of pizza, then took another swig of Coke to try to chase the taste of the congealed cheese from his mouth. He watched Walter and Alex eating and reading and not paying the least bit of attention to him. He cleared his throat again. 

 

"So, any plans for the day?" he asked, a false note of cheeriness in his voice. 

 

Alex grinned mischievously, raising his eyebrows at Walter. 

 

"Oh, we don't have any," he said slyly. "Do we, Walter?" 

 

Walter folded the paper and got up, stretching as he did so. His heather grey knit shirt rode up a little as he did, exposing a little of his flat, lightly furred stomach. Fox's cock twitched a little, his eyes drawn inexorably to the section of bare skin and lower, to the bulge behind the zipper of Walter's jeans. Fox licked his lips. God, that was one sexy man. He coughed a little and turned slightly, trying to distract himself. He was pissed off and determined to stay that way. 

 

Walter poured himself another cup of coffee and winked at Alex. 

 

"Nope," he said with a grin. "Nothing at all." 

 

Fox shoved the pizza box back into the refrigerator, then tipped the can of Coke up. He drained it, tossed it into the garbage and belched loudly. 

 

Walter sipped his coffee. Alex ate his cereal. Fox stared at them for a moment, then whirled and headed for the stairs, making plenty of noise as he ascended. Alex looked at Walter. 

 

"What's the matter with him?" 

 

Walter shrugged and began clearing up his breakfast dishes. 

 

"Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess." 

 

He put the frying pan into the sink to soak and smiled at Alex over his shoulder. 

 

"Hurry up and finish, Rat. We've got a busy afternoon ahead of us." 

 

Upstairs, Fox looked out of the bedroom window at the overcast, grey December morning. He called the number for the local weather and the computerized voice informed him that the current temperature was 34 degrees. He smiled grimly, glancing out of the window again. Drops of rain had begun to bead the glass. Raw, cold, wet. Perfect. He dressed quickly in sweats, thick socks and running shoes. Pasting an expression of casualness on his face, he bounded downstairs and into the kitchen. 

 

Walter was leaning against the counter, savoring the last of the coffee. Alex was putting his dishes in the dishwasher, looking oddly sweet with the dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. Fox had a sudden urge to go to Alex and take him into his arms and kiss him, but he stopped himself. He wasn't ready yet to abandon his snit. He frowned, watching as Alex reached for Walter's now-empty coffee mug, his hand brushing Walter's. Fox watched, his pique threatening to mushroom into full-blown jealousy as chocolate brown eyes met green and they smiled at one another, Walter leaning toward Alex to whisper in his ear. Alex's laugh, a sound Fox normally treasured, longed for, worked hard to coax from his sometimes reticent lover, now seeming almost to taunt him. So, they had plans today that obviously didn't include him. Fine. 

 

"I'm going for a run," Fox said loudly. 

 

He waited for Walter to tell him he shouldn't. Waited for Walter to tell him it was too wet, too cold, that he'd get pneumonia. 

 

"Okay," Walter said, "better wrap up, it's pretty raw out." 

 

He began rummaging in the kitchen drawer. 

 

"Alex? Have you seen my checkbook?" 

 

"Don't tell me you've lost it again," moaned Alex. "Wait, I think it's on the hall table. I'll go look." 

 

Fox stood, his mouth open in disbelief. Just what in hell did he have to do to get some attention around here? Furious, he turned on his heel and opened the back door. He stepped outside, slamming it hard. He went to the end of the driveway, the cold already making his eyes water. He ran through his stretching exercises perfunctorily and then headed out for his run. Soon he was lost in the rhythm of his pounding feet, his adrenaline pumping as he ran faster and faster, his anger and jealously growing with every step. His throat was beginning to hurt a little, but he took deeper breaths of the icy air, pushing himself harder. 

 

Fox finally slowed as he neared the park. The light rain had dampened his clothes and he was wet and miserable. He stopped near a bench, bending over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He sat down heavily and glanced at his watch. He had been gone about an hour. He thought longingly of home and of warmth. A fire in the fireplace, and he and Walter and Alex on the sofa, cuddling under the soft throw Walter's mother had given them the Christmas before. Tears pricked his eyelids and he crossed his arms sullenly, looking down the road toward home. Nice fantasy. Except Walter and Alex had plans of their own and obviously didn't give a damn that he was out here, practically freezing. He glanced at his watch again and then got up, walking in the opposite direction from the house. If they wanted the Invisible Man, that's exactly what he'd give them. 

 

Fox sat in the small cafe', nursing a cup of hot tea. He stared glumly out the window, watching the cars go by. He checked his watch again. He'd been gone almost two hours now. Surely by now they'd notice he hadn't come back. He wondered if Walter would be angry. He'd been spanked before for pushing himself beyond his limits. Walter knew all too well how Fox liked to run to take his mind off his problems. He remembered going for a run the summer before, the oppressive heat wrapping itself around him like a hot towel, how he had run and run until he was sick, kneeling in the grass by the side of the road, vomiting and shaking. 

 

Remembered Walter pulling up in the car, strong hands lifting him, concern creasing those handsome features, tears in those kind brown eyes. Remembered coming home from the emergency room with the stern warning from the doctor still ringing in his ears. Heat stroke. How close he had come to really doing himself serious harm. Home again and a cool bath, falling asleep in Walter's arms, Walter's hands stroking his hair, Walter's voice whispering his love. Remembered the way Walter had taken him over his knee and blistered his bare butt two days later, Walter's voice, rough with emotion, rising over the cracking sound of the paddle, promising him more of the same if he ever did anything so reckless and foolish again. 

 

Fox looked up anxiously as the door of the cafe' opened, but it was just a couple of truck drivers, stepping in out of the cold for a bowl of chili. Fox sighed. He really didn't want another paddling, but if that's what it took to get Walter to notice him... He fiddled with the empty sugar packets, smiling a little as he thought of Alex, the reformed assassin, with his incongruous love of all things sweet. The way he and Walter ducked their heads in mock embarrassment in restaurants as Alex dug into the sugar bowl, stirring spoonful after spoonful into his coffee until it resembled maple syrup. The candy bars that seemed to unerringly find their way into the pockets of his tough-boy leather jacket. 

 

Alex. It was hard to remember what life had been like without him, before he and Walter had found him, dazed and bleeding, a Consortium bullet in his chest, lying like a bundle of rags in a corner of the deserted warehouse. Before they had brought him home, frightened and hostile, and reluctantly nursed him back to health. Fox's eyes filled with tears as he remembered the way he had treated Alex, the vile words he had hissed at his wounded enemy, the infinite care he had taken to ensure that the man who lay silently in their guest room never forgot for a moment how much he was despised. How his very life depended on their generosity and restraint. Fox stirred a little more sugar into his cooling tea and smiled a little as he remembered the better times that had followed those difficult days. Remembered how it felt to finally let go of the past, let go of the pain and fear and anger. To be brave enough to face the unthinkable love that was right in front of him. How those first nights felt, the three of them in one bed, the warm weight of Alex between them unfamiliar and yet so right, so perfect. 

 

Fox looked out the window again at the cars passing by, their tires hissing on the wet pavement. He bit his lip, thinking again of his lovers. He did love Alex, he loved them both, but he couldn't help feeling jealous sometimes. He knew Walter and Alex both loved him, and even though he knew he was being irrational, he couldn't help a certain tiny resentment at having to share Walter with Alex. It wasn't just the two of them anymore, and sometimes it seemed Alex needed a lot of Walter's time. Fox got up from the table, paid for his tea and started for home. 

 

Fox walked into the kitchen and closed the back door behind him, stripping off his hat and gloves, stomping his feet a little to get the feeling back into them. Delicious heat began to thaw him and he rubbed his hands together to help it along. 

 

"Hello!" he called, a little hesitantly. 

 

His stomach knotted and he began to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. His bottom clenched involuntarily and he decided it definitely hadn't been a good idea. He really didn't want a spanking. He glanced into the living room. The fireplace was cold, the television silent. 

 

"Hello?" he called again. "Walter? Alex? I'm sorry I was gone so—" 

 

Then he saw the note on the table. He picked it up and read it. 

 

Fox- 

 

We've gone shopping. Hope you had a good run. See you later. 

 

Love, Walter 

 

P.S. Please take out some steaks for dinner. 

 

"Fuck!" Fox growled, balling up the note and throwing it in the general direction of the trash can. 

 

Hot tears sprang to his eyes and he blinked them away. He knew he was behaving like a four year-old, knew he was being completely irrational, but he was too mad to care. He stomped up the stairs and turned on the shower. He'd show them. 

 

It was after dark when Walter and Alex bustled in the back door, their cheeks red from the cold. Groaning, they dropped their packed shopping bags in a pile by the door and shrugged out of their coats. 

 

"I'm exhausted," Alex moaned. "The gulag had nothing on the mall at Christmas." 

 

Walter laughed and ruffled his hair. 

 

"Come on, Rat, let's get this stuff hidden in the spare room before Fox sees it." 

 

The two men carefully hid their purchases behind a pile of boxes in the spare room, whispering excitedly. Fox was going to be so surprised! Alex grinned as they closed the door, making sure to lock it. He had been afraid they wouldn't be able to find the right gifts for their lover, but they had, and now he couldn't wait until Christmas morning. 

 

Returning to the kitchen, Walter noticed a folded piece of paper on the table. Picking it up, he read it quickly, concern rapidly clouding his features. He handed it to Alex, troubled and confused. 

 

"Read this, Alex," he said worriedly. "What on earth do you suppose got into him?" 

 

Alex took the note and read it. 

 

I'm going out. I'd tell you where but it's not as if you care. Hope you two had a great time together. 

 

Fox 

 

Alex's eyes widened. 

 

"Did you two have a fight?" 

 

Walter shook his head. 

 

"No. Did you?" 

 

Alex shook his head. 

 

"No. Did he seem that upset to you?" 

 

Walter thought for a moment. 

 

"Well, he was pretty grumpy this morning, but I didn't think he was really upset about anything." He glanced at the clock. "It's almost nine o'clock. There's no telling how long he's been gone. I'm going to go look for him." 

 

Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

 

"Please, Walter," he said hesitantly. "Let me. I want to." 

 

Walter looked into Alex's eyes and then drew him close for a hug. 

 

"Okay, Rat. But take the cell phone and keep me posted. Are you sure you know where to look?" 

 

Alex began pulling his coat back on. 

 

"I'm pretty sure," he answered. "There's only so many places he'd go when he's upset." 

 

He looked at Walter, his expression suddenly uncertain. 

 

"Do... do you think," he faltered, "do you think it's me? That he doesn't want me around?" 

 

Walter quickly crossed the distance between them and pulled Alex into his embrace again before tilting Alex's face up for a kiss. The kiss was long and deep and left Alex flushed with pleasure. Walter's voice was soft and serious. 

 

"You are loved." He said simply. "Fox loves you. I love you. He's upset, but when you find him and bring him home, we'll get to the bottom of it." 

 

In more ways than one, he thought to himself. There was always the chance that Fox was genuinely distressed about something important, and if that turned out to be the case, Walter would move heaven and earth to put it right. But this had all the earmarks of a classic Fox Mulder temper tantrum, and Walter had just the cure for that. 

 

Alex went to three bars before he finally hit the jackpot. He walked into Under the Table, a popular gay bar on 15th Street, and spotted him immediately. Fox was working on his fourth bourbon and Coke and didn't notice Alex standing behind him. Neither did the man who had been insistently pestering Fox for the better part of an hour to go home with him. 

 

"Come on, sweet thing," the man cooed, close to Fox's ear. "A pretty boy like you shouldn't be all alone on a cold night. Let me take you home and warm you up." 

 

He reached for Mulder's arm, only to be stopped by a black-gloved hand wrapped painfully around his wrist. The man turned and found himself the focus of a pair of blazing green eyes. The man scowled and tried to twist out of Alex's grip. 

 

"You got a problem?" he snarled. 

 

Alex's voice was soft and deadly. 

 

"Why?" he asked, increasing the pressure on the man's wrist. "You looking for one?" 

 

Something in Alex's eyes made the man decide that he would like to leave now, and quickly. He mumbled an apology, grabbing his hat and scarf from the bar. Alex released his hold on the man's wrist and Fox's would-be date hurried from the bar. Alex sat down on the barstool the frightened man had just vacated. He watched with concern as Fox drained his glass and ordered another. 

 

"How many have you had?" Alex asked quietly. 

 

Fox glared at him unsteadily and turned back to the bartender. 

 

"Make it a double." 

 

Alex caught the bartender's eye. He slipped the man a fifty and mouthed the words "No more." The bartender had witnessed the little scene between this leather-jacketed man and the creep that had been bothering the pretty boy, and cooperation seemed to be a very good idea. He pocketed the fifty and nodded, placing a large glass of iced water in front of Fox. 

 

"Hey," slurred Fox loudly. "I din' order vodka, thash Alex's drink!" 

 

"Fox, let's go home," Alex said quietly. Fox glared at him again. 

 

"Lemme 'lone. Who cares." 

 

"We care, Fox. Walter and me." Fox took a gulp of the iced water and looked at Alex with an almost comic air of tragedy. 

 

"Walter and me," he mimicked. "Walter and you. You and Walter. What about me?" 

 

"Is that what this is about?" Alex was hurt. "Fox, we love you. I love you." He stood up and tugged insistently at Fox's arm, not about to take no for an answer. "Let's get you out of here. We can talk about whatever's bothering you at home." He caught a whiff of Fox's breath and grimaced. "After you sober up, that is." 

 

He bundled his inebriated lover into his coat and led him to the car, practically having to prop Fox up so he could get the passenger side door unlocked. He belted Fox in and closed the door before walking across the street to where Fox's car was parked. He checked to make sure the doors were locked and the windows rolled up. Once satisfied that the vehicle was secure, he returned to his car and started it up. He turned toward home, glancing over at Fox. Fox was apparently asleep, his mouth hanging open as he snored softly. Alex shook his head. He knew they were in for a long night. 

 

Walter jumped up from the sofa as the back door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Alex struggled in, half-dragging, half-carrying Fox, who was obviously dead drunk. Walter stood speechless for a moment, his hands on his hips, then rushed to help Alex. He wrinkled his nose at the smell emanating from the nearly unconscious Fox, guiding him into a kitchen chair. He and Alex quickly divested Fox of his coat, hat and gloves. Fox groaned loudly, squinting in the bright light of the kitchen. 

 

"Turnat out," he mumbled. "Too bright." 

 

Walter began brewing a pot of strong coffee, shaking his head. 

 

"Were you able to get anything out of him?" 

 

Alex shook his head in consternation, going to the closet and hanging up his and Fox's coats. 

 

"He seems pissed off at us, that's all I know. He wasn't making much sense." 

 

Walter got down three mugs and made sure the sugar bowl was full before sitting down across from Fox with a sigh. 

 

"I doubt we'll get much out of him until he's had a chance to sleep it off. Let's get some coffee into him and then get him to bed." 

 

 

The following evening, Fox stood, fidgeting nervously, his nose pressed firmly against the wall in what was unofficially "his" corner, by the archway that led into the kitchen. His nose was itching, but he didn't dare scratch it. The silence in the room was overpowering. Walter sat on the loveseat, Alex on the sofa, concern evident on his beautiful face. Fox didn't know how long he had been in the corner. Long enough to do some serious thinking. His stomach rolled nervously as he thought about the punishment that awaited him. Punishment he had gone to great lengths to earn. That day had been a long one, and Fox had grown increasingly nervous as he awaited the penalty for his behavior the night before. 

 

He had been almost relieved when Walter, satisfied that Fox was now fully recovered, had summoned him into the living room and directed him firmly into the corner, leaving him with one stinging swat to think about. A taste of what was to come. Fox gulped and dared to sneak a glance at his lovers. Alex sat on the edge of his seat, gnawing at his bottom lip. Walter glanced at Fox and crooked his finger at him. 

 

"Come here, Fox." 

 

Fox started guiltily and walked over to the loveseat, his head bowed. His cheeks burned with shame at the little he could remember of the night before. He remembered drinking, remembered a man bothering him, trying to get him to leave with him. Remembered Alex, remembered the black leather cool against his cheek as he clung to his lover, trying to remain upright as Alex manhandled him into the car. Remembered two sets of hands leading him up the stairs and stripping off his clothes, guiding him into bed before tucking the covers tenderly around him. 

 

Walter looked at Fox for a long time. Contrite hazel eyes flickered up from the carpet and looked miserably down again. 

 

"Well, Fox," Walter reluctantly began. 

 

He would so much rather be spending the evening rolling around in bed with his two gorgeous lovers, then sprawling, sated, the sweat drying on their naked bodies. Arguing over who was going to leave the delicious warmth of their bed and go downstairs for snacks and for a monster movie to pop into the VCR. He sighed and turned his attention back to the miserable young man who stood before him humbly, his hands behind his back. 

 

"Would you like to explain just what got into you last night? What possessed you to pull a stunt like that?" 

 

Fox mumbled. 

 

"Fox William Mulder..." Walter began, a warning tone to his voice. 

 

Fox hesitated. He had been so angry the day before, had felt so ignored, so unwanted. Now, he was beginning to realize how silly he had been. Alex had come to get him, had refused to allow him to drink any more, had brought him home. They had made him drink coffee, had tucked him into bed. They had let him sleep while they had gone back to the bar to get his car and bring it home. Fox blinked back tears. He always made a mess of everything. He had been angry yesterday, and he still resented Walter and Alex excluding him from their plans. But it hadn't been worth the trouble he was in. He glanced up and saw Walter's eyes, the tight line of his jaw suggesting he was getting short on patience. Fox cleared his throat. 

 

"I... I was mad," he whispered. 

 

Walter reached out, waiting for Fox to take his offered hand. He drew the troubled young man down beside him and put an arm around him, just holding him for a moment. Alex watched silently, anxiously. 

 

"Tell us, Fox," Walter said quietly. "Tell us what upset you." 

 

Fox looked down and mumbled. 

 

"Sounds stupid now." 

 

"I'm sure now that you've had time to consider the situation and how you could have handled it, it does seem that way to you," Walter replied. "But something made you upset enough that you went out and got blind drunk. Upset enough that you didn't tell us where you were going or give us any way of getting in touch with you." 

 

He paused meaningfully and grasped Fox's jaw lightly, tilting his face up so that he was forced to meet Walter's stern gaze. Walter continued. 

 

"Upset enough that, instead of taking a cab to the bar so that you'd be assured of a safe way home, you drove yourself there. Which leads me to believe that, no matter how much you had to drink, you intended to drive yourself home." 

 

Fox paled. He was in so much trouble. 

 

"I..." he swallowed and looked down. "I'm sorry." 

 

Walter squeezed his hand. 

 

"You still haven't told us why." 

 

Fox blinked back tears. He bit his lip, looking first at Alex and then back at Walter. 

 

"I... you both seemed to be so... at breakfast yesterday, it was like you didn't even need me. " He heard the whiny, plaintive tone of his own voice and cringed a little. "I just felt, it just seems like lately, you don't notice me, and then you went out and didn't even ask me if I wanted to go. I just felt invisible, like you—" he broke off, biting his lip. A tear escaped and trickled down one cheek. "Like you love him more," he whispered. 

 

He glanced at Alex and saw him pale. Saw naked pain in those emerald eyes. Saw him stand up to leave. 

 

"No!" Fox shouted, rushing over to Alex. 

 

He grasped both of Alex's hands and led him back to the sofa. Alex sat rigidly, not looking at Fox. His eyes were bright with tears barely held back. Fox knelt, burying his face in Alex's lap. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Please don't go. I love you, Alex." 

 

He looked up into Alex's face searchingly. 

 

"I love you. Walter loves you." He swallowed hard. "I love that Walter loves you. We all love each other, and what we have is rare and special and I treasure it every day of my life." 

 

Alex's mouth dropped open slightly as Fox lay his dark head on his thigh, his tears forming a damp spot on Alex's jeans. Fox had never spoken so openly, the words had never been so obviously torn from his heart. Fox sniffled and raised his head, hazel eyes boring into green. 

 

"I love you," he said again. "Both of you. I'm so lucky and sometimes I forget that. I acted like a selfish, spoiled brat and I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know Walter is going to spank me hard and I deserve it. I acted like a jerk. Please forgive me." 

 

Alex leaned down and wrapped his arms around Fox, holding him tightly. 

 

"Moi lisitsa," he whispered. "Moi lyubov." 

 

Fox closed his eyes. He heard Walter rise and move toward them, then felt two strong arms surrounding them both. 

 

"I love you both," Walter said, his voice shaking with emotion. "Never one more than the other. Equally. With all my heart, with all I have." 

 

"Me too," Alex whispered. "All that I am, the both of you, it's yours to share, forever." 

 

Fox squeezed his eyes shut tightly against a renewed flow of tears, then opened them again to look at his lovers. 

 

"I love you," he repeated. "I know I behaved badly. I know I should have told you how I was feeling. I thought only of myself and I did the wrong thing. I'm sorry." 

 

He took Walter's hand. 

 

"I'm ready," he said simply. 

 

Walter nodded and returned to the loveseat, waiting as Fox stripped, placing his clothes on the sofa next to Alex. 

 

Alex looked up at Fox, standing naked, his mouth set in a determined line, ready to do penance for his wrongdoing. 

 

"If you want me to leave, Fox..." he said softly. 

 

Walter watched the two men, waiting to see what Fox would do. Fox looked down, then back up at Alex with tenderness in his eyes. 

 

"No," he said firmly. "I want you to stay. I made you worry about me, too. You had to come and get me, you had to protect me from that creep in the bar. This is a part of the life we share and it's only right that you should be here." 

 

Alex nodded and sat back, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. He knew Fox had to be punished for what he had done, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He bit his lip. Walter saw the tension in Alex's face and looked at him, nodding encouragingly. He looked at Fox. 

 

"Come on, Fox." 

 

He guided Fox facedown across his lap, positioning the pale buttocks over his thighs. He raised his left thigh slightly to present Fox's bottom at the correct angle for punishment. 

 

"You know what you did was wrong." 

 

"Yes, sir," Fox whispered. "I know. I'm sorry." 

 

"I'm sorry, too," Walter answered. "I'm sorry I have to do this. But you have to learn not to take foolish risks with your health and well-being." 

 

He reached over to the small table that stood next to the sofa and picked up the small, leather-covered paddle. Alex blanched. Walter had only used it on him a few times and then only for serious offenses. It had made a lasting impression. 

 

WHACK! 

 

Walter brought the paddle down hard, leaving a bright red splotch in the center of Fox's right buttcheek. 

 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! 

 

"Ow..." Fox grunted between clenched teeth. He tried to stay quiet, but he knew he'd be bawling like a baby before long. 

 

Walter paddled Fox's bare ass, leaving no part of it unscorched. The paddle came down again and again, producing a more vocal response with every smack. Fox began to whimper steadily as the paddle unerringly found its mark. His backside felt as though it had been doused with gasoline and set ablaze. He kicked a little as Walter turned his attention to the sit spots. Walter's voice rose above the loud cracks of the paddle. 

 

"Why are you being punished, Fox?" 

 

"F-for being jealous! For being selfish!" Fox cried. 

 

Walter paused for a moment, stroking Fox's naked back. 

 

"No, love," he said quietly. "Try again." 

 

He waited a moment and then landed two more blistering blows to the vulnerable sit spots. 

 

"Ow! Ow, Walter!" 

 

"Come on, Fox," Walter pressed, raising his arm again. "You know what you did wrong." 

 

Fox began to sob loudly, forcing the words out between gulps of air. 

 

"I... I went out and got drunk... OW... I drove myself, I didn't tell you where I was going!" He hung his head and cried in earnest, hot tears dripping from the end of his nose. 

 

"I was upset and I didn't tell you, I didn't come to you! I should have come to you and told you how I was feeling! I shouldn't have handled it the way I did!" 

 

"That's right, Fox," Walter said soothingly. "Almost over now. I want you to listen to me very carefully. All right?" 

 

"Y-yes," Fox gasped as Walter began to blister the tops of his thighs. It was impossible not to squirm as the tender flesh was set alight, and Walter had to keep one arm across Fox's back to hold him still. 

 

"Do you understand what could have happened if you had tried to drive yourself home after drinking?" 

 

"OW! Yes, Walter!" 

 

WHACK! 

 

"Tell me." 

 

Fox's voice was rough from crying. He swallowed and tried to talk through the tears. 

 

"I could have gotten pulled over and arrested, it could have hurt my career! I-I could have had an accident! I could have hurt someone or hurt myself or," he gulped, "even worse, I could have c-cost someone their life." 

 

"That's right," Walter said, his voice trembling. "Do you know what it would do to me to lose you?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Fox whispered. "I'm sorry." 

 

"That's good, Fox," Walter said approvingly. He dealt Fox two more swats on each side. Fox wailed and sobbed. 

 

"Now tell me what could have happened if Alex didn't arrive at the bar in time to deal with that creep who was pestering you." 

 

Fox wiped at his eyes with one hand, clinging to Walter's leg with the other. 

 

"He could have gotten angry. He could have tried to slip something into my drink or follow me out to my car. He could have h-hurt me..." 

 

Walter gave Fox's scarlet backside four more swats, then lay the paddle down. Fox cried hard, his shoulders shaking, his anguished sobs filling the room. Walter gently pulled him into his lap, making sure not to touch Fox's throbbing backside, and held him. Fox lay his head on Walter's shoulder and cried, cried it all out, all the petty jealousy and misplaced anger and loneliness. All the fear, the worry over losing this wonderful gift he had been given. The two wonderful gifts he had taken for granted. 

 

"Let it go," Walter said gently, stroking Fox's hair. "That's it." 

 

He looked at Alex. Alex stood and walked over to the pair, leaning down and kissing the top of Fox's head. He looked at Walter, biting his lip again. Walter looked at him with concern and held out his hand. Alex took it and squeezed it gently. 

 

"I know you have to do it," Alex said softly, tears shining in his eyes. "But it's hard." 

 

Walter looked at Alex with understanding. 

 

"Yes, Rat," Walter agreed. "It's hard." 

 

Alex looked into Walter's eyes and nodded. 

 

"Hardest for you," he whispered. 

 

Walter nodded, tears filling his own eyes. Alex smiled. 

 

"I'll be upstairs," he said. 

 

Walter returned his smile. 

 

"We'll be up in a minute." 

 

Alex turned and went upstairs. He found the bottle of aloe and went into the bedroom, turning back the covers and getting into bed to await his lovers. 

 

Fox had stopped crying and now lay quietly in Walter's arms. Walter rubbed circles on his back, enjoying the feel of the smooth skin under his sore palm. 

 

"Fox? You okay?" 

 

Fox nodded against Walter's shoulder. 

 

"Yes," he answered, his voice muffled. "Except my butt's on fire." 

 

Walter hugged him tightly. 

 

"I know, Fox," he said. "But you had it coming." 

 

Fox looked up. 

 

"Yes," he said quietly. "I earned every swat." 

 

Walter gazed down at him tenderly. 

 

"Fox," he whispered. "How could you ever think I love Alex more than you? That we would deliberately exclude you?" 

 

Fox looked down again. 

 

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I just felt left out. Sometimes it seems you... spend more time with him." 

 

Walter considered this. That he had inadvertently made Fox feel unwanted pained him. 

 

"Fox, I never meant for that to happen. I can only say that Alex is still trying to adjust, still trying to change. He needs a lot of guidance, and I'm sorry if I neglected you. I love you, Fox, more each day. I never meant for you to feel left out. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again. Okay?" 

 

Fox grinned and nodded enthusiastically. 

 

"Okay," he answered. He stood slowly, his scorched butt making its presence known as he moved. He winced. 

 

"Alex is waiting upstairs with the aloe," Walter said, smiling. That was all Fox needed to hear. He headed for the stairs, then stopped, turning to Walter with a curious expression. 

 

"Where were you two yesterday, anyway?" he asked. 

 

Walter laughed. 

 

"Fox. Have you forgotten it's Christmas? All I can tell you is that it was a mission of absolute secrecy." 

 

Fox's eyes lit up. 

 

"You mean you were shopping for me? Where did you go? What did you buy?" 

 

Walter swatted playfully at Fox's red rump. Fox jumped out of the way with a yelp. 

 

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Walter mock-growled. "Now let's get upstairs and get you cooled down." 

 

Fox threw his arms around Walter's neck and nipped at his ear. 

 

"I'm just getting warmed up," he said breathily. 

 

Walter chased him up the stairs, enjoying the view of that gorgeous well-spanked bottom as Fox bounded up the stairs ahead of him. 

 

Fox lay on his stomach, his head on Walter's lap. Alex gently spread the aloe gel across Fox's tender backside, being careful not to press too hard as his fingers passed over the welts. 

 

"Fox?" 

 

"Mmmmm..." Fox murmured, lost in a blissful haze. 

 

"I'm sorry, too." 

 

Fox raised his head and looked over his shoulder. Alex was gazing at him with a troubled expression. 

 

"What for?" 

 

Alex capped the bottle of aloe and put it on the nightstand, then lay down next to Fox, lifting one hand to brush an errant lock of hair out of Fox's eyes. 

 

"I heard you and Walter talking downstairs, after," Alex said, looking down. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean for you to feel left out. I didn't mean to ignore you. I guess I was just preoccupied with the shopping trip, I was so excited about picking out your gifts. I promise I'll try not to let it happen again." 

 

Fox leaned up and kissed Alex, caressing his cheek with one hand. 

 

"It's okay, Alex. I know you both love me. I should have come to you and talked about it. I promise to do that if I ever feel that way again." 

 

Walter leaned down, determined to get in on the action. 

 

"And I promise to make sure you never do," he said huskily, drawing his two naked lovers into a tight embrace. "Never again."


	3. Christmas Trilogy III:  Gold

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimers: They're mine and I own them and I don't know what this "X-Files" business is all about but I can tell you this Chip Cartler person is going to hear from my attorneys. 

Status: New/Series. Part Three of the Christmas Trilogy series. Follows "Red" and "Green". 

Summary: Love by the light of the Christmas tree. Christmas Morning with the boys. Sex (kinda), spanking, schmoop and gaily wrapped packages. 

Note: Krycek has two arms. 

Thanks: To HollyIlex, Jami and Samantha for virtual hugs and for drying my tears when the first version of this story was eaten by the Evil!Computer. 

Dedication: For Our Jas. We love you. 

 

 

Gold 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Alex stirred and stretched under the down comforter, luxuriating in the delicious warmth that surrounded him. Walter was spooned up behind him, one big arm wrapped around his waist. Fox lay on his side, facing Alex, snoring softly, murmuring a little in his sleep. Alex grinned in the dark, savoring the small moment as he always did, grateful for the pure and simple joy of waking up next to someone. Two someones. Two extraordinary someones who loved him. He breathed deeply, inhaling their unique scents, mingling together as one, all at once clean and musky and incredibly sexy. Not long gone were the days when he dreamed of waking up like this. Not long gone were the days when he would look at the door to this very room, closed to him then, and wish that he could spend just one night in this bed. He could count every night he had spent in this bed since that lonely, uncertain time, and was grateful for every one. 

 

Alex gazed at Fox's face, so beautiful in repose, barely visible in the darkened room. He raised a hand and gently stroked Fox's hair, careful not to wake him. Walter stirred a little in his sleep. Alex felt Walter move closer to him, felt the heat of that broad chest against his back, felt that strong arm tighten slightly around his waist. He sighed and closed his eyes. This was where he wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life, with Fox and Walter beside him, feeling loved like this, safe like this. Alex's eyes filled with tears as he listened to his lovers' soft breathing in the early morning silence. I know I don't deserve this, he thought. But I'm trying to. I'm trying so hard. 

 

Alex raised his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. The blue numbers seemed to float eerily in the darkness. 5:37. Alex lay back down. May as well go back to sleep, he thought. Fox and Walter shouldn't be up for another couple of hours at least, even on Christmas morning. He closed his eyes and waited to drift off. It was no use, he was still wide awake. Damn. He fidgeted a bit, then turned over, careful not to jostle Walter. He flipped the pillow over to the cooler side, bunched it up just the way he liked it, then lay his head down with a sigh. A couple more hours of sleep would do him no harm, and then they could all go downstairs together and celebrate Christmas. Alex regulated his breathing, taking deep, slow breaths, waiting for his body to relax. Nothing happened. In fact, his heart seemed to beat faster, his body becoming more and more alert. 

 

Carefully, Alex turned over onto his back and stared up into the darkness. He raised his head again and looked at the clock. 5:42. Five minutes later than the last time he'd looked. He listened to his lovers' measured breaths. Maybe if he made some noise, maybe coughed a little... he took a deep breath in preparation for an bout of enthusiastic throat-clearing, but released it in defeat. He couldn't go through with it. It wouldn't be fair to wake Fox and Walter so early. It had been nearly one in the morning when they had finally come to bed. Alex lay between them, his arm crooked beneath his head, and wondered... what had they been up to last night? 

 

After dinner the night before, both Walter and Fox had suddenly taken on looks of sly purpose and Alex had been banished to the upstairs bedroom with an armload of snacks and videotapes. He had made a show of pouting as he ascended the stairs to dire warnings about staying put and not coming out until they came for him. 

 

Alex had wiggled his bottom suggestively as he paused to retrieve a fallen bag of M & Ms. Looking coquettishly over his shoulder, he had lowered his lashes and poked out his lower lip adorably. 

 

"But I'll be so lonely up there, all by myself in that big bed..." 

 

"Upstairs! NOW!" His lovers had shouted in unison. 

 

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Alex had grumbled good-naturedly. He went into the upstairs bedroom and dumped his treats on the bed before going to the bedroom door. If he left it open just a crack, maybe he could hear... 

 

"I didn't hear it click, Alex," Walter's voice carried from halfway up the stairs. 

 

Alex gulped and closed the door. The latch clicked and in a moment, Alex heard Walter's footsteps descending the stairs. 

 

Damn, Alex thought as he flopped on the bed. Sometimes he could have sworn that man was psychic. He sorted through the stack of videotapes Fox had thrust at him before pointing sternly toward the stairs. "Dirty Harry." Cool. "Terminator 2." Even better. "The Beginner's Guide to Tantric Yoga." Alex rolled his eyes and set that one aside. For a supposedly serious guy, Fox had a funny streak a mile wide. 

 

"Now we're talking..." Alex murmured as he reached the bottom of the stack of videotapes. Fox had included several James Bond movies, clearly selected with Alex's tastes in mind. Fox knew that Alex was a purist and believed that the original Bond was the best Bond. 

 

Alex popped a tape into the VCR and snorted as the opening credits for "From Russia with Love" began to roll. He rolled his eyes again and made a mental note to subject Fox to an extensive session of tickling at his earliest convenience. Alex reached for the bag of M & Ms and tore it open with his teeth, scattering a few of the brightly colored candies on the coverlet. He scooped them up absently and tossed them into his mouth, already absorbed in the action onscreen as Sean Connery's Bond dispatched his enemies with his usual suave efficiency. 

 

Halfway through the second videotape, Alex began to get restless. He glanced at the closed bedroom door, his cheeks already flushed with shame at what he was thinking. He turned back to the movie, but even Clint Eastwood couldn't tear his attention away from the mysterious goings-on downstairs. He got up from the bed and moved stealthily toward the door. He hesitated. He definitely should not be doing this. But, he reasoned as he pressed his ear against the door, they had told him not to leave the bedroom and he hadn't. Technically, he was within the rules as they had been provided to him. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red and he bit his lip, knowing all too well how unimpressed Walter would be with that line of logic. Well, he would only listen for a second. Just enough to assuage his curiosity. 

 

Alex listened intently. Fox's and Walter's voices rose over a background of crackling paper and the occasional muffled thump. The back door opened and closed several times. He heard the occasional laugh, heard them speaking in voices too low to be understood. Suddenly, Walter's voice boomed up the stairwell. 

 

"Alex? Are you listening at the door?" 

 

Alex's eyes widened and he backed away from the door. He hastily returned to the bed, wasting no time in lying down and feeling for the remote. 

 

"No, Walter!" he called. 

 

His eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth, blushing furiously. The faint chuckling coming from downstairs deepened his blush. 

 

Alex sighed and turned his attention back to Clint. Damn, it was hard to be good. 

 

Alex lay now in the darkness, between Walter and Fox, trying to will himself back to sleep. It wasn't working. The harder he tried, the more awake he felt. His pulse rate seemed a little faster than normal. He couldn't seem to keep still. Another look at the clock produced disappointing results. 6:04. Alex tossed a bit and then settled again, still unwilling to wake Fox and Walter. Come on, Alex, he scolded himself. You're a grown man, not a little kid. The presents will still be there when they're ready to go downstairs. His mind seemed to be running a mile a minute. What had those two gotten up to? He had more than enough presents under the tree. How many more could they have bought? Alex closed his eyes again. He opened them a moment later. He couldn't take it anymore. They had told him not to leave the bedroom last night. They hadn't said anything about this morning. Cautiously, he slid out from beneath Walter's arm, careful not to disturb him. He crawled to the end of the bed, moving carefully, and stood at the foot of the bed. Fox murmured a little in his sleep, then settled. 

 

Alex's robe was draped across the back of the chair. He reached for it, then paused. He picked up Fox's robe from where it hung on the closet doorknob and wrapped himself in it, inhaling Fox's scent. He loved to wear his lovers' clothes; it made him feel close to them, even when he was alone. He would happily pad around in Walter's socks, a size too big, or one of Fox's shirts with the sleeves rolled up, loving the feeling of their clothes against his skin. They tolerated this well enough, scolding him halfheartedly when they had to come and retrieve a sweater or a T-shirt that they had been searching for all morning. Alex tied the sash and stepped into the hallway, gently pulling the door shut behind him. 

 

The downstairs was darker still, the heavy drapes shutting out all but a small sliver of pale early morning light. Alex paused at the foot of the stairs and flipped the light switch. The small lamp on the end table lit up and the Christmas tree blazed. Walter had strung an extra set of the tiny twinkling lights this year. "You can never have too many," he'd said, even as he fussed about extension cords and overloaded outlets. Alex yawned and rubbed his eyes, then stopped. He blinked in amazement. He rubbed his eyes again. 

 

"Oh..." 

 

The room was filled with gifts. Beautifully wrapped boxes encircled the base of the tree, two deep. They lined the wall behind the tree, they were piled on the sofa, stacked on the chairs. Alex stood motionless, his hand still on the light switch. His astonished eyes swept the room, taking in every detail. He could not have known how beautiful he was at that moment, his wide green eyes sparkling in the light of the Christmas tree, his lips slightly parted in a classic expression of awe. He could not have known how much he looked like the little boy he once was. The little boy he had never truly had a chance to be. 

 

Alex knelt beside the tree, surrounded by a sea of boxes wrapped in red, green, gold and blue. He gazed at them, careful not to touch, his eyes widening as he read tag after tag. They all seemed to say the same thing. "To Alex. We love you. Walter and Fox." A nearby package had been wrapped with precision, the paper having been folded and then creased, the tape applied in the exact center of the flap. Alex smiled. That had to be Walter. Another package beside it caught his eye. The paper was slightly wrinkled, the ribbon a bit askew. What appeared to be a dozen strips of tape of varying lengths secured the flaps at irregular intervals. Alex's eyes shone. That had to be Fox. 

 

Alex knelt by the tree for quite a while, his serious green eyes taking everything in, as if he were trying to memorize it. As if he were afraid that if he closed his eyes and opened them again, it would all be gone. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off the dazzling scene. He shook his head in silent wonder, unable to believe that he had ended up here, with Fox and Walter, after all he had done. They had done all this, bought these things, wrapped them, for him. All for him. They thought him worthy of this. Alex looked down, remembering a small, pale boy with dark hair and green eyes, a boy who dreamed of a morning like this. Until the day came when he didn't dream anymore. Oh, some of the foster parents had tried, shoving a gift at him, almost as an afterthought. Socks and underwear, usually, still in the shopping bag, or a battered toy handed down from some other unfortunate young boarder. When the boy grew up, he spent most Christmas mornings working, ensuring the enemies of the Consortium never saw the New Year. Sometimes, when there was no pressing assignment, he spent the big day in a bar, drinking until the raw burn of the vodka chased away the images of the happy families on television, the carolers, the last-minute shoppers thronging the sidewalks. 

 

Alex remembered the previous Christmas, his first in this house. A Christmas he had nearly ruined. In those first awkward months, despite Walter's efforts to include him and the gradual lessening of tensions between himself and Fox, he still felt like an intruder. An outsider. He had hovered on the fringes, watching as Fox and Walter unpacked the Christmas things, things he had never seen before but which to them were familiar treasures, imbued with memories. Memories he wasn't a part of. He had envied them their intimacy, their ease with one another, the small touches that passed between them as they moved about, assembling the Christmas tree and untangling the lights. Alex had wanted so badly to be a part of it, but he didn't know how. Allowing his fear and loneliness to get the better of him, he had slipped out into the frigid night, taking only one change of clothes, leaving the other things Walter had bought for him behind. 

 

Walter found him sitting in the bus station restaurant, staring at a cold cup of coffee, his bag on the seat next to him. Had taken him home, despite his feeble protests. Walter had been silent in the car, Alex huddled miserably against the passenger-side door. Alex was worried that he had broken the fragile trust between them, but there was care and concern in Walter's eyes, a reassuring hand resting briefly on the back of Alex's neck as they walked into the house. 

 

In deference to the holiday, Walter had delayed their discussion of the matter until two days later. Alex winced as he remembered the lengthy session in Walter's study, how his fingers had twisted nervously in his lap as Walter lectured him at length about running off to God knows where in the middle of the night with no coat in twenty degree weather. About coming to Walter and talking about his fears instead of panicking. About how worried Fox and Walter had been. Alex had nodded numbly, tears in his eyes, knowing that Walter was right. Knowing that he had made a big mistake. Alex's mouth had gone dry when Walter reached into his top desk drawer and laid the small leather-covered paddle in the center of the desk blotter. It was the first time Walter had used the paddle on Alex. 

 

Alex had tried to be stoic and take his punishment without complaint, but was sobbing and pleading in minutes as the paddle cracked down across his bare bottom. Walter had taken his time, reminding Alex frequently of the reasons for the spanking, and by the time it was over, Alex was sure his butt was swollen to three times its normal size. Alex bit his lip, remembering. Remembering the pain in Walter's eyes at the bus station, remembering the gentle touch of Walter's hand as they entered the house. Remembering how he had pulled his pants up gingerly over his sore bottom, remembering how Walter embraced him, wrapped him in those strong arms, told him it was over, that he had been punished and all was forgiven. That he was loved. That he knew Alex understood now the consequences of reckless and inconsiderate behavior. That Alex understood now how much he meant to them. 

 

Alex stood and went to the kitchen and started the coffeemaker. He smiled as he thought of his lovers, still slumbering upstairs. Those two are in big trouble, spoiling me like this, he thought. He took out the griddle, careful not to make too much noise, and arranged half a dozen strips of bacon neatly along it. He bent down and retrieved two small frying pans from the cabinet by the stove, remembering that Fox liked his eggs scrambled and Walter liked his sunny side up. Alex hummed as he cooked, thinking of the sweet penalty he would exact from his lovers for being so extravagant. After breakfast in bed, of course. He dipped thick slices of bread in beaten egg, sweetened with a few drops of vanilla extract, for French toast, his personal weakness. He placed three plates on a large tray and filled them with the hot food. He added an artful garnish of orange slices, then filled two mugs with fresh coffee. Cream and two sugars for Fox, black for Walter. He poured a small glass of orange juice for himself and placed it on the tray along with napkins and cutlery. In the absence of fresh flowers, he took the small snowman figurine from its place on the kitchen counter and added it to the tray. 

 

Alex carried the tray upstairs and opened the bedroom door. He set the tray down on the nightstand, gazing at the sleeping men, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. It didn't take long for the aroma of bacon and eggs to rouse Fox. He opened sleepy hazel eyes and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Alex gazed at him. Damn, but Fox looked sexy as hell first thing in the morning. Those heavy-lidded eyes, those dusky pink nipples just peeking above the sheets... Alex licked his lips. 

 

"Merry Christmas, Fox," he whispered. Fox stretched languidly and grinned. 

 

"Merry Christmas to you, Rat." 

 

"I've brought you breakfast in bed," Alex said. "I guess we'd better wake Walter." 

 

Fox leaned over and kissed Walter's ear. 

 

"Merry Christmas, Walter," he purred. 

 

Alex leaned down and kissed Walter's other ear. 

 

"Merry Christmas, Walter," he said softly. "Joyeux Noel," he added, in perfectly accented French. "Feliz Navidad, Froliche Weihnachten..." 

 

Walter sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table. 

 

"Okay, okay," he said, laughing. "Enough with the United Nations. Merry Christmas, you two." He sat up and arranged the pillow behind his back. 

 

"Mmmm," he said, as Alex placed the tray between them. "That smells delicious." 

 

"Thanks," said Alex, placing his hands on his hips in a gesture of mock sternness. "You two were awfully busy last night, weren't you?" 

 

Fox nibbled at a piece of bacon, his eyes wide and innocent. 

 

"Why, Alex," he said guilelessly, "whatever are you talking about?" 

 

"Yes, Alex," Walter said, with just the ghost of a smirk around the rim of his coffee mug. "Whatever are you talking about?" 

 

Alex rolled his eyes. 

 

"Well, it seems that last night, while you two innocents were looking the other way, someone sneaked in here and left a huge pile of presents with my name on them." 

 

"Hmmm," Walter said seriously. "Now that I think about it, I might have seen someone after all." He took a forkful of eggs and chewed it thoughtfully. 

 

"How about you, Fox? Did you see anyone suspicious last night?" 

 

Fox grinned as he finagled a bite of Alex's French toast. 

 

"Well, now that you mention it, I think I did see someone." 

 

Walter was trying hard not to laugh. 

 

"We'd better get an APB out as soon as possible," he said in his best AD tone. "Fox, can you describe the... ah... perp?" His solemn expression began to slip a bit and he began to shake with barely controlled mirth. 

 

"Oh, yes," said Fox, nodding earnestly. "About six foot one, 280 pounds, white beard, red suit..." 

 

Walter had lost his battle with control and was now laughing so hard the coffee was sloshing over the rim of his mug. 

 

"Suspect was last seen heading in a northerly direction..." 

 

Fox was giggling madly but still managed to get the words out. 

 

"Suspect is considered round and extremely jolly..." 

 

He clung to Walter, whooping with laughter. Alex stood watching them, chewing the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. 

 

"Okay, you two," he said. "I hope you realize that I'm going to have to get dressed and go out now, see if I can find a store open so I can buy some more gifts for you." 

 

Walter grabbed Alex around the waist, pulling him into bed, nearly upsetting the breakfast tray. 

 

"Oh no you don't," he mock-growled, nibbling Alex's neck. "Nobody gets dressed yet. And you're not going anywhere, young man." 

 

He gently nipped at Alex's ear, licked his way down to a delicate collarbone. 

 

"You go near that door and you won't sit down for a month." 

 

Alex gasped as his robe was opened and Walter's mouth found a nipple, licking and sucking it expertly. Alex moaned and arched his back, his cock rapidly filling as Fox's hand closed around it. 

 

"Take my robe off, Alex," Fox whispered. 

 

It was well after nine a.m. when the three sated, freshly showered men descended the stairs. 

 

"Well," Walter said, rubbing his hands together briskly, "looks like we've got our work cut out for us." 

 

Fox went to the kitchen and began clearing the dirty dishes from the breakfast tray. He filled the mugs with fresh coffee. 

 

"Coffee, Alex?" 

 

Alex knelt by the fireplace and lit the pile of hardwood stacked in the grate. 

 

"No, thanks," he called. "Could I have some hot cocoa instead?' 

 

"Coming up," Fox replied, rummaging in the cabinet. 

 

"With extra marshmallows?" Alex asked, batting his eyelashes. Walter often said those eyelashes should be registered as lethal weapons. 

 

Helpless in the face of such an onslaught, Fox sighed and added a double helping of marshmallows. A few moments later, the three men sat in a circle on the carpet, their eyes alight with anticipation. 

 

"Well, how should we do this?" Walter asked. 

 

They looked at one another. Grinning, they pounced on the nearest pile of packages. The room was soon filled the sounds of tearing paper and shouts of delight and surprise. 

 

"I can't believe it!" Fox shouted, a huge smile lighting up his face. He held a cellophane-wrapped stack of videotapes, turning it over in his hands as if it were a rare jewel. He shook his head in disbelief and looked at Alex with admiration. 

 

"The complete collection of Gamera movies! Alex, how did you know?" He ran his finger along the side of the package, reading the titles with growing excitement. "Oh, man, 'Gamera vs. Guiron', 'Gamera vs. Gaos', 'Gamera, Guardian of the Universe'..." He looked at Alex again. "How did you ever find these?" 

 

Alex grinned, trying to act nonchalant. 

 

"Oh, you know," he said conspiratorially, "I have contacts all over the world." 

 

Walter suddenly became very interested in the conversation. 

 

"Alex?" he said, his eyebrows rising. 

 

Alex gulped and looked down, blushing. 

 

"Okay," he admitted hastily. "I found them on ebay." 

 

"Good," Walter said. "That I can live with." 

 

He reached for a large package wrapped in gold foil and read the tag. 

 

"To Walter, love Alex." 

 

He smiled and tore into it. A moment later, a pair of exquisite hand-tooled leather boots emerged from the tissue paper. Walter's eyes shone as his fingers caressed the buttery-soft leather. 

 

"Oh, Alex," he whispered. "They're perfect." 

 

Alex beamed. Walter slipped the boots on, groaning with pleasure as they seemed to mold immediately to a custom fit. He walked around the living room, no easy task with the growing mounds of discarded wrapping paper and ribbon. 

 

"Alex, thank you," Walter said, leaning down for a kiss. "I love them." 

 

"I'm glad," Alex answered, his eyes bright. "I wanted to give you something you'd never buy for yourself." 

 

"You're right about that," Walter said. "I've been wanting some like this for as long as I can remember and I never got around to buying them." 

 

"Too stingy's more like it," Fox snickered, scampering out of the way as Walter aimed a swat at his butt. 

 

Walter smiled meaningfully at Alex, then went into the mud room, emerging with a large box wrapped in red and green paper. Alex flushed, remembering how that box ended up sequestered in the mud room and how he ended up with a sore butt. He looked down, ashamed of how he had tried to find out what was in the tantalizing package, and the way he had gone about it. All that was forgotten, however, when Walter placed the package on the floor in front of Alex and stood back, his arm around Fox, both their eyes dancing with excitement. 

 

Alex stared at his gift, ran his hand along its smooth sides. It was so beautiful, he almost wished he didn't have to open it. His eyes brimmed with tears of happiness and gratitude. He had never expected to have anything like this in his life, like this morning, like these two people who now were the very center of his heart. For me, he thought, his fingertips gently fingering the large red bow on the top of the box. He shook his head slightly, unable to hide his look of awe and disbelief. For me. He looked up into Walter's kind brown eyes. 

 

"Go on, Rat," he said softly, a world of love in those three words. "Open it." 

 

Alex took a deep breath and began unwrapping the package. He set the torn paper aside and opened the box. The only sound in the room was the rustling of the packing material and Alex's shocked gasp as he saw his gift. His mouth dropped open and he looked up sharply, utterly at a loss for words. He looked down again, still unable to believe his eyes. A sleek black laptop, one he had seen in a catalogue of extremely expensive electronics a few months before. He had made an offhand comment to Fox about how much he liked it, but that it was far more than he could afford. Alex dug in the box, finding package after package of state of the art software. He looked up into the smiling faces of his lovers. 

 

"I..." Alex shook his head. He had no idea how to express his gratitude. 

 

"It's... I can't believe it, it's exactly what I've wanted," he said, his eyes filling with tears. "You shouldn't have, it's so much..." he trailed off, looking around the room at all of the packages yet to be opened. His eyes filled with tears as the magnitude of what they had done began to truly sink in. They had filled the room with gifts for him. Alex gazed at Fox and Walter helplessly, words failing him. He had spent generously on them, it was true, as generously as he could afford and then some, but it was nothing even approaching the towering mound of gifts with his name on them. Alex stood and went to Walter and Fox, who stood watching him with shining eyes. 

 

"Why?" He asked softly. "Why so much? I never expected anything like this. I don't have as many gifts for you." He looked down, embarrassed. 

 

"We love you," Walter answered softly. "We wanted to give you the Christmas you never got to have." 

 

Alex looked up, his cheeks wet with tears. The light in his eyes rivaled that of the Christmas tree in its brilliance and beauty. 

 

"I love you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "So much. No one..." he trailed off, swallowing hard. "No one ever did anything like this for me before." He shrugged helplessly, wiping away an errant tear. "I-I don't know what to say." 

 

Fox smiled and touched Alex's cheek gently. 

 

"Just say you're happy," he whispered. 

 

Alex smiled, his eyes saying the words before he could. 

 

"I'm happy," he said softly. 

 

Fox wrapped his arms around Alex, stroked his hair. Walter joined in the embrace, his arms easily drawing the two smaller men close. Alex turned and buried his face in Walter's chest, clinging to him. 

 

"Love you so," he murmured. "Both of you. My greatest gift, every day, you and Fox." 

 

"We love you too, Alex," Walter said. "We love you too." 

 

A lock of Alex's dark hair had fallen into his eyes, and Fox gently smoothed it back. He turned and went to the pile of gifts on the sofa, returning with a long, rectangular box. He handed it to Alex. 

 

"This one next," he said, grinning. "This one's from me." 

 

"It's heavy," Alex said, kneeling and placing it on the floor. He untied the huge gold bow and lifted the lid. He pulled back the tissue paper and gazed at what lay beneath it. 

 

"Ohhh, Fox," he breathed. He set the tissue paper aside. Neatly layered inside the box were five gorgeous Dolce and Gabbana suits, ranging in color from dark green to charcoal grey. The shirts and ties that lay precisely folded at the end of the box had obviously been selected with an expert eye. 

 

"We'll have to pay a visit to the tailor to make sure of the fit," Fox said. "I made an appointment for us Friday at three." 

 

"Thank you," Alex whispered, touching the fine material reverently. "Fox, you shouldn't have—" 

 

"Nonsense," Fox answered with a wave. "You've been talking about taking that big step, getting a legit job in the private sector. These will give you a competitive edge and some extra confidence. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "some men are just born to wear Dolce and Gabbana. You're going to look sexy as hell in those suits." 

 

Alex carefully replaced the tissue paper before putting the lid back on the box. He looked down for a moment. 

 

"So," he said quietly, looking back up at Fox and Walter. "The black leather jacket goes?" 

 

"NO!" Fox and Walter shouted, twin looks of horror on their faces. 

 

Walter pointed a finger at Alex. 

 

"Anything happens to that leather jacket, young man," he said sternly, "and you'll be shopping for another one with a hot butt." 

 

Alex stood and went toward the kitchen, grinning as he did. He looked seductively over his shoulder, batting his eyelashes and wiggling his rump. 

 

"You know," he purred huskily, "I've been told I've already got a hot butt..." 

 

"That's it!" Walter yelled. 

 

He chased after Alex, who feinted to the left and dashed back into the living room, straight into Fox's arms. Walter was right behind him, grinning madly. 

 

"A hot butt, huh?" He growled, aiming a light swat at Alex's rump. 

 

"Hey!" Alex yelled, laughing. "Cut it out!" 

 

Fox tried to contain his struggling lover, who was in truth not struggling all that hard. Presently, the two of them collapsed in a heap beside the Christmas tree, giggling and panting. Alex lay on his back, Fox beside him. Walter advanced on them, on his hands and knees, a wicked smile on his face. 

 

"Hey!" Alex said again as Walter tied the gold ribbon loosely around his wrists. Walter raised Alex's hands above his head and pressed them against the carpet. 

 

"Leave them there," he growled. 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said obediently, his cock already straining against his boxers. 

 

Walter did the same to Fox, tying his wrists with gold ribbon and admonishing him not to move them from above his head. 

 

"Yes, Walter," Fox murmured. 

 

Walter opened their robes, lovingly slid their boxer shorts down, kissed them both with exquisite gentleness. He knelt, surveying his beautiful, naked lovers, both of whom were squirming deliciously, the firelight reflecting warmly on their bare skin. 

 

Walter shrugged out of his robe, tossed his boxers aside. 

 

"Merry Christmas, my loves," he whispered.


	4. Christmas Trilogy IV:  Rainy Days and Mondays

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult for m/m interaction, discipline, language 

Spoilers: Please assume all Krycek eps 

Disclaimer: Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek and all other X-Files characters are the intellectual property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. (They even take credit for Kersh, can you believe it?) I spank the Rat strictly as a service to womankind and not for profit. 

Warning: This is discipline fic. Specifically, domestic discipline. This includes spanking as well as other forms of punishment. If this is not your cuppa, turn back now. Or, as an alternative, you could read the story anyway and write to me and complain about it, in which case I will think you're an idiot. If you're underage in your locality, don't let the screen door hit you on the way out. 

Status: New/Series. This story takes place in the same universe as the Christmas Trilogy stories and follows Red, Gold and Green. 

Thanks: Much gratitude and many hugs to my beta, HollyIlex and to Josan for doing insightful postmortems on this after it was posted. Thanks to you both for the advice, guidance and red penciling. I know this is a better story now than it was because of your insight and wisdom and your generosity with both. Thanks also to Karen who suggested the evacuation idea. 

Summary: A virus threatens D.C. Will our heroes escape in time? 

Dedication: To The Persuaders. Because you take discipline seriously. LOL! 

Author's Note: This story began life as an apology snippet. I had received a message from a well-meaning friend and listmate of mine with a virus warning, and she asked me to post it to the list. Neither of us knew at the time that the virus warning was, in fact, a hoax. Loving discipline, as we all do, our ListMom and ListSibs decided I had to be punished, and so I was sentenced to write an apology snippet. (This happens to me a lot. I think my apology snippets now outnumber my actual stories. ) But somehow, this "snippet" just kept growing and growing until it was no longer a snippet at all, but a story. Hope you enjoy it. 

Note: Krycek has two arms. 

 

 

Rainy Days and Mondays 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Walter stood at the kitchen counter, savoring the last sips of his morning coffee. He smiled as Fox padded into the kitchen, all sleepy hazel eyes and tousled hair. 

 

"Good morning," Walter said, placing his coffee cup in the sink. 

 

"Morning," murmured Fox, wrapping his arms around Walter's waist and resting his head against his back. "Don't go in, the weather's awful. Call in sick, they'll understand." 

 

Walter turned and put his arms around his mischievously grinning lover. 

 

"Oh, they will, will they?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

"Oh yes," said Fox, his eyes wide and innocent. "Your boss isn't nearly as tough and mean as mine is." 

 

He gave a yelp and tried to run for it but Walter hauled him back by the sash of his robe and aimed a healthy swat at his backside. 

 

"Tough, huh?" Walter demanded with a grin. "Mean, huh?" 

 

Fox laughed and tried to break free, only to find himself pulled close and nestled against a broad chest. Walter leaned down for a kiss. 

 

"Well, your tough, mean boss has a tough, mean budget meeting at nine and he's got to go." 

 

"Awww, Walter," Fox whined, hanging on tight. "It's only 7:30. You've got plenty of time." 

 

Walter paused and cupped Fox's face, gazing lovingly into his eyes before stealing another sweet kiss. 

 

"I need to get there early to go over my notes," he said gently. "You go back to bed." He glanced at the kitchen window and the cold rain beating against it. "It's a good day for it." 

 

Fox followed Walter into the foyer. Walter stood obediently as Fox straightened his tie, the smaller man finally standing back with a little murmur of approval and a proud smile. Fox loved Walter in full AD regalia. Impeccably pressed pants that hugged those long, strong legs just so, crisp, starched white shirts that showed off that broad chest, the spotless jacket and tie completing the ensemble. Fox couldn't resist licking his lips. His lover was one fine, fine looking man. 

 

Walter smiled at Fox, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He reached into the closet for his coat and umbrella. 

 

"Hold that thought," he said, leaning down for one more kiss before heading out into the downpour. 

 

Fox moaned with arousal, his lips parting under Walter's. He pouted as Walter shrugged into his coat. 

 

"I wish we could both be on vacation this week," he said. "It's not fair." 

 

"Next time, Fox, I promise," Walter said, picking up his briefcase. "You know I couldn't take this week off with Kersh out with gallstones." 

 

He ruffled Fox's hair affectionately. 

 

"I promise, we'll all take a week together this summer. We'll go down to Cancun or somewhere, the three of us." 

 

He paused, glancing toward the staircase. 

 

"Where is Alex, anyway?" 

 

Fox shrugged. 

 

"He was up and out of here early, said he had to meet someone." 

 

"Hmmm," Walter frowned. 

 

The wind picked up outside, howling above the pouring rain. Walter looked at his beautiful lover and thought longingly of the big empty bed upstairs. He turned toward the front door with a sigh. 

 

It sure was Monday. 

 

"I'll be home on time, Fox," Walter said as he reached for the doorknob. "If you talk to Alex, see if he wants to go to Melito's for dinner tonight. He loves their crab cakes." 

 

Walter opened the door and gasped in shock as a drenched Alex Krycek fell into his arms. 

 

"Walter! Fox!" he gasped, grabbing onto Walter's coat. 

 

"Alex! For God's sake, what's wrong? Where have you been?" 

 

Walter hauled his drowned Rat inside, kicking the door shut behind him. 

 

Alex gasped and sputtered, rain dripping from his hair and clothes to pool on the hardwood floor. He shivered and tried to talk through chattering teeth. 

 

"V-virus, have to w-warn you..." 

 

He protested as Walter began stripping him of his waterlogged clothing. 

 

"N-no, there's no time!" Alex's voice was desperate. "Please listen to me!" 

 

Walter grasped Alex's shoulders firmly and leaned down, demanding eye contact. He was in full AD mode and it wasn't just the clothes talking. 

 

"Alex, look at me." 

 

Shivering still, Alex obeyed. His panicked green eyes looked frantically at Walter. 

 

"Take a deep breath." 

 

The command in Walter's voice was unmistakable. 

 

Alex drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and then another. 

 

"That's better," Walter said softly, his big hands beginning to rub Alex's bare shoulders, massaging away the goosebumps that had formed on the wet skin. 

 

"I know you're upset. It's obvious that something is wrong. But whatever it is, a few more minutes won't make a difference." 

 

Alex shook his head and began to protest. 

 

"No, Walter! You don't under—" 

 

Walter swatted Alex's backside sharply through his sodden jeans. 

 

"Alex..." 

 

Alex knew that tone of voice. He also knew the sudden stinging in his butt would increase exponentially the longer he argued. He closed his mouth and looked down. 

 

"Yes, sir," he murmured. He fidgeted and chewed his lip, his whole body radiating tension. 

 

Walter glanced at Fox. 

 

"Fox, call the office and tell them we have a family emergency and that I won't be in. And tell Kim to reschedule the meeting for the end of the week." 

 

Fox went for the phone. Walter finished undressing his anxious young lover, dropping the wet clothes in a squishy heap on the floor. At last, Alex stood naked and shivering in the middle of the living room. Walter disappeared into the downstairs bathroom and returned with a fluffy bath sheet, wrapping Alex in it and toweling him down. 

 

"Walter?" Alex asked urgently. "Now? Please?" 

 

"Not yet," Walter said firmly. 

 

He guided Alex over to the wing chair near the fireplace. He sat Alex down and then stooped to light the fire. The hardwood caught quickly and soon the flames roared, bathing the room in their warm glow. Walter knelt beside Alex's chair and kissed him gently. He was a little surprised to feel Alex's arms suddenly around him as the younger man clung to him tightly. Walter could feel the tremors running through Alex's body as he pressed close, instinctively seeking safety and security. 

 

"Walter," Alex's tone was urgent. "Please, there isn't much time, please let me..." 

 

"All right, all right, Rat," Walter whispered soothingly. "Da, moy lyubov, moy Krysa, shhh..." 

 

Walter felt Alex relax slightly, and he began to rub circles on his back through the bath sheet. Fox came into the room with a thick bathrobe and a pair of socks. 

 

"Come on, Alex," Fox said softly, "let's get you into these and then you can tell us what's wrong." 

 

Alex allowed Fox to take away the bath sheet and wrap him in the robe. He smiled a little. Fox had brought his own robe, knowing how much Alex loved to wear it. Alex blinked back sudden tears at the thought of ever losing Fox and Walter, of ever having to live without the loves of his life. Walter took each of Alex's cold bare feet in his big hands and slid the thick socks on. Alex was grateful, so grateful for these small kindnesses. God knew he had been cold and wet many times before, and no one there to dry him, to warm him by the fire, to care if he got walking pneumonia and it hurt to breathe for weeks. But he was also frustrated. He began to shiver again. It seemed he couldn't get warm. He bit his lip again, his anxiety mounting. Why wouldn't they listen to him? There wasn't much time left. They had to let him tell them. 

 

Walter and Fox sat close by, Walter on the loveseat and Fox on the floor, his long legs tucked under him, his fingers intertwined with Alex's. 

 

"All right, Alex," Fox said quietly, feeling his lover trembling. He tried to keep his voice level, trying not to show his own fear. Alex was scared. If Alex was scared then that meant there was definitely something worth being scared of. 

 

"Tell us, Alex. Tell us where you've been. Tell us what's got you so upset." 

 

Alex took a deep breath and looked from Fox to Walter. His lovers' worried eyes were fixed on him. He felt Fox's hand tighten on his and he began to speak, his voice rough and scared. 

 

"Th-there's a virus, I can't explain it all, there's no time. I got information from one of my contacts, an e-mail—" 

 

"One of your contacts? From before?" Walter looked upset. 

 

"I... yes, I'm sorry, Walter," Alex said, looking down, ashamed. "He... this man has my private e-mail address. It's not like what you're thinking. He just... tells me things, sometimes," Alex finished lamely. 

 

Walter's face had that We're-Going-to-Discuss-This-Later look. 

 

Alex gulped. Right now, a scorched butt was the least of his concerns. If he wasn't able to convince Fox and Walter that there was real danger, there might not be a later. 

 

"Go on, Alex," Fox murmured encouragingly, casting a warning look at Walter. "Let's not worry about where the information came from, okay? Just tell us what it is." 

 

The story spilled out in an agonized flood. The Consortium was planning to release a virus into the air over D.C. It was colorless, odorless and undetectable. Once infected, victims would become deaf, blind and paralyzed, unable to speak as their own body turned against them. Within 72 hours, they would die. The virus was extremely contagious and once it began to spread, it would tear through the city like wildfire. There was no preventative, no cure. 

 

Walter leaned forward, his whole body tensed for action. 

 

"How long, Alex?" he said worriedly. "When are they going to release it?" 

 

Alex clung to Fox's hand, the shaking growing worse. 

 

"A-about eight hours, Walter, that's all we've got." 

 

He looked at the older man, his eyes desperate. "Please, Walter, you and Fox go, let me deal with it. Your safety is all that matters to me. I came to warn you, to tell you to get out of D.C." 

 

Alex stood and began to pace, unaware that he was wringing his hands. 

 

"Please," he repeated, "you have to go, you have to get out, now!" 

 

Walter noticed Alex's hands and got up, going over to his young lover and grasping them firmly. He looked into Alex's worried eyes. 

 

"We're not going anywhere without you." 

 

Alex broke free with a growl of frustration. 

 

"No!" he cried, his voice agonized. "Please, don't you understand? You have to get away, you have to go!" 

 

He rushed back to Walter and grabbed onto his shirt. 

 

"Please! I have to know you're safe. Please take Fox and go, get out of the city, please, just go." 

 

"No, Alex." 

 

Fox had come to stand behind Alex. 

 

"We're in this together, the three of us." 

 

Alex turned an imploring face to Fox. 

 

"Please, Fox," he whispered. "Let me try to call in some favors, find out what people know. There might be something I can do. But I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you, to Walter. I can't, please." 

 

Alex took a deep, calming breath and turned back to Walter. 

 

"Please, Walter," he begged. "Please take Fox and go to your sister's in Charleston. Please." 

 

"No." 

 

Walter's tone brooked no argument. He quickly gathered Alex into his arms and pressed his cheek against the top of his damp head. 

 

"No," he repeated softly. "All of us together, Alex. All together." 

 

"Now," Walter said firmly, looking into Alex's eyes. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure the threat is real?" 

 

"Absolutely," Alex said quickly. "I wish it weren't. But my source is reliable. No way is he wrong." 

 

"All right," Walter said. "We need a plan. Everyone get dressed and meet back here in ten minutes." 

 

Fox and Alex ran to get dressed while Walter commandeered the phone. A call to the Director started the ball rolling. Walter stood by the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose and glancing at his watch. In the last nineteen minutes he had talked to the Mayor of Washington, D.C., the head of the Centers for Disease Control and the C.O. of the local National Guard unit. 

 

Things progressed quickly after that. The news hit the airwaves within an hour. The highways leading out of Washington were jammed with families fleeing the coming plague. News reporters tried in vain to snag man-on-the-street interviews with frantic, harried citizens searching for the nearest shelter. By the time the virus was scheduled to be released, Washington, D.C. was a ghost town. The streets were deserted, patrolled by National Guardsmen with automatic weapons and isolation suits. Shops were closed, the government buildings emptied, the federal workers sequestered in underground bunkers. It was rumored that the President and his family as well as all of the executive branch of government had been moved to the underground facility in West Virginia. 

 

All along the East Coast, they waited. Huddled in shelters, packed onto westbound buses, sitting on relatives' living room floors in Boston and New York and Philadelphia, Raleigh and Atlanta and Miami, they waited. In the spacious, airy living room of a pale yellow house on Water Street in Charleston, South Carolina, Walter, Fox and Alex sat on the sofa. They bit their lips and held one another's hands, barely aware of Walter's sister Miranda as she fussed over her unexpected company, the massive platter of praline cookies untouched before them. They stared at the television, barely hearing the awed whisper of the correspondent as he breathlessly informed them that the virus was undoubtedly drifting down into the neighborhoods of Washington right this very minute. Fox trembled and felt Walter's arm slide around his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. All three men waited and wondered the same thing. Would there be anything left to go home to? 

 

The news was inconclusive when they went to bed in Miranda's guest room, the ceiling fan whispering quietly above them as they spent a restless night in one another's arms. 

 

The next morning, they awoke to astonishing news. They sat on the sofa in their bathrobes and gaped at CNN at shot after shot of bleary-eyed and agitated citizens streaming from the shelters. The President was said to be flying back from West Virginia, distinctly unhappy. The National Guard was pulling out. Miranda handed them the morning paper, smiling almost apologetically as she discreetly disappeared into the kitchen to check on the grits. Walter unfolded the paper and the headline told the story in bold, 20-point print: 

 

D.C. VIRUS A HOAX! FALSE WARNING EVACUATES CAPITAL CITY 

 

They gasped. Alex went pale. Walter grabbed the remote and turned up the sound. 

 

"... sources have confirmed that the so-called "D.C. Virus" was nothing more than a hoax. The Centers for Disease Control have concluded that the virus does not exist and there is no threat to citizens. D.C. residents are being encouraged to return to their homes and businesses." 

 

Two sets of shocked eyes turned to Alex. 

 

Alex sat stunned, one hand gripping the edge of the sofa cushion. He turned to his lovers, seeing the creases between their brows that meant their surprise was quickly turning to annoyance. 

 

"I..." 

 

Alex was at a complete loss for words. He shook his head as if to clear it. His source had been wrong? The man had never given him bad information before. Had Spender sniffed the man out, used him to set Alex up? He swallowed hard. He wondered if Walter was going to spank him when they got home. He bit his lip and fidgeted a little, chiding himself. Gee, Alex, let's see. The capital city of the United States of America was evacuated, citizens packed into shelters, the President and top officials were sent to a hole in the ground in West Virginia, the National Guard was called in, all because of information you provided, and you're wondering if he's going to spank you? You'll be lucky if you're able to sit down again before you're forty. 

 

Walter stood, his jaw clenched in that familiar way that suggested someone's butt was going to be very red, very soon. 

 

"Let's eat breakfast and get packed," was all he said. 

 

Breakfast was excruciating. Alex could barely eat a bite. Miranda made several attempts at lighthearted conversation, but one attempt after another flared and died. After breakfast, Walter pecked her apologetically on the cheek and thanked her for the hospitality, accepting the carefully packed box of praline cookies for the ride home. 

 

Walter picked up the suitcases, so hastily packed the day before, and carried them out to the car. Fox was waiting in the passenger seat, hands twisting nervously in his lap. Walter climbed in behind the wheel and they waited for Alex. Walter stared straight ahead, the vein in his temple pulsing in that familiar way that was always a danger sign. Fox winced. Boy, was Alex in for it when they got home. Walter checked his watch and tapped the horn. He glanced toward the house. 

 

"What's taking him so long? If I have to go in there and get him..." 

 

"I'll go, Walter," Fox said hastily, opening the car door. "He's probably just saying goodbye to your sister." 

 

Walter waited, gazing down Water Street. His eyes passed over the gracefully curving street and beautiful old homes without truly seeing them. He was preoccupied with thoughts of Alex. Walter knew he was going to have to punish him when they got home. He dreaded doing it but it had to be done. Fox came back out to the car a few minutes later, a puzzled expression on his face. 

 

"Walter?" Fox got back into the car. "He's not in there." 

 

"What?" Walter's eyes widened with surprise. "Are you sure?" 

 

Fox nodded. 

 

"I found this." 

 

He handed Walter a small, neatly folded slip of paper. Walter opened it and read it, his heart plummeting to his stomach. The note was short, but Alex's pain was all too evident in the few lines. 

 

Walter and Fox- 

 

I tried to contact my informant and he's disappeared. I should have tried to verify the information through other sources but I thought it was reliable. I know this is going to cause trouble for you back home, Walter. I'm so sorry. I always fuck everything up. I love you. I'm sorry. 

 

-Alex 

 

"Yes, he's just gone. His bag, too. Miranda said he said goodbye to her and went outside while we were still upstairs getting our things. She thought he was going to wait in the car." 

 

Fox's hazel eyes were bright. 

 

"He's gone, Walter. He's run off." 

 

"Dammit!" Walter yelled, pounding the steering wheel. 

 

He rested his head in his hands. 

 

"What are we going to do, Fox? Where would he go?" 

 

Fox shook his head sadly. 

 

"You know Alex," he said softly. "If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be." 

 

Walter picked up his cellphone and dialed Alex's number. A mechanized voice informed him that the person whose number he was dialing had turned the unit off or had traveled outside the calling range. 

 

Walter turned the key and started the car. 

 

"Wait!" Fox cried. "He's got to be around here somewhere. How far could he have gotten? He's still in Charleston, Walter. We can't leave!" 

 

Walter placed a hand on Fox's thigh. 

 

"I know, Fox," he said gently. "I'm worried about him too. But as you said, if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be found. The best thing to do is to go back to Washington and wait for him, keep trying to contact him." 

 

Walter took a deep breath and looked down at the note Alex had written. 

 

"He's just scared right now, Fox. He got scared and he bolted. But he'll come back to us. He has to. All right?" 

 

Fox blinked back tears and nodded, placing his hand over Walter's. 

 

It was a long, silent, mournful drive home. Fox tried again and again to reach Alex on his cellphone, but to no avail. After the second desperate voice mail, he withdrew into himself, curling up on the passenger seat and staring out the window. 

 

The telephone was ringing as they walked into the house. Walter snatched it up. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

His face fell as he listened to the caller. Fox looked down, disappointed. Walter's voice indicated the caller was both powerful and supremely unhappy. 

 

"Yes, sir. No, sir. No, I didn't, sir. There appeared to be a clear and present danger according to the information we were provided with, sir. Yes, I'm aware of that, sir." 

 

There were several more calls in rapid succession. Fox was brewing a pot of coffee, watching Walter with worried eyes, when the Director called. 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter said for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening. "Yes sir, nine o'clock tomorrow morning." 

 

He hung up the phone with a sigh. Fox moved behind him, massaging his shoulders. 

 

"Will... will it be all right, Walter?" 

 

Walter turned and embraced Fox, resting his cheek on Fox's soft brown hair. 

 

"Yes," he sighed. "I think I'm in for a mighty unpleasant week, but it'll pass. With some fancy footwork, I should be able to keep the focus where it belongs, on that mystery informant of Alex's, and keep his and my fat out of the fire. The Director will ream me a new one, but that's nothing new." 

 

Fox looked down, knowing how true that statement was and how many times he himself had caused Walter to bear the brunt of the Director's wrath. 

 

Walter cupped Fox's chin and raised his face for a kiss. 

 

"Any sign... ?" 

 

Fox shook his head sadly. 

 

"No. I looked while you were on the phone. He hasn't been here." 

 

Walter held Fox tightly, each man wordlessly yearning for the one who was not there. 

 

The next week passed with cruel slowness. Fox leapt for the phone every time it rang, quickened his step every time he glimpsed a black leather jacket on the street. Walter threw himself into damage control, meeting all day every day with angry officials looking to string someone up by the balls. Walter worked tirelessly to ensure that his and Alex's balls remained unscathed. He took the rare free moment to leave another voice mail on Alex's cellphone. 

 

"Call us, Alex," he pleaded. "Please, Rat," he added softly, "just call us." 

 

That Friday night, Fox and Walter had just gone to bed when the telephone rang. Walter picked it up. 

 

"Hello?" 

 

There was a long pause. He could hear noise in the background, what sounded like flight announcements in a foreign language. French, maybe. 

 

"Walter?" 

 

Walter sat bolt upright. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

Fox sat up too, his eyes wide. 

 

"Is it him? Is he all right?" 

 

Walter gestured at Fox to wait a moment. He listened intently to the background noise, trying to figure out where Alex was. He tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting to spook Alex into running again. 

 

"It's me, Walter," Alex said softly. "I'm okay." 

 

"Where are you?" Walter said. "We've been so worried, Alex. Please come home." 

 

A long silence. Walter began to worry that Alex had put the phone down. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

"I'm here." 

 

Alex sounded exhausted. His voice was weary and sad. 

 

"Alex? Where are you?" 

 

Alex swallowed. Walter could hear his throat clicking over the phone. 

 

"S-somewhere else. Another country." 

 

"Can't you tell me?" 

 

Walter's face was creased with concern. Fox clung to his arm, gazing at him with worry. 

 

Alex paused again. 

 

"I love you both," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I called to tell you I'm sorry. Did they... did they fire you?" 

 

"What? No," Walter said, trying to sound lighthearted. 

 

Neither Alex nor Fox would ever know just how close to reality that scenario had been, but a week's worth of skillful talk and ass-kissing had smoothed things over considerably. 

 

"I still have a job, Alex. Everything is all right. You don't have to do this, Rat. Come back." 

 

Alex sounded as though he were fighting back tears. 

 

"I... I can't," he whispered brokenly. 

 

"Yes, you can," Walter said, fierce love in his heart, in his voice. Tears formed in his own eyes, fighting for release. 

 

"Come back, little Rat. Please, baby. Come home." 

 

Alex was unable to stifle a sob. Walter heard a creaking noise, as though Alex were gripping the telephone so tightly it was about to shatter in his hand. 

 

"I miss you," Alex whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, Walter. I messed up so bad. I'm sorry." 

 

"I'm not mad, Alex. I just want you back here, safe in our arms. That's all." 

 

Alex sniffled. 

 

"Is Fox mad?" 

 

"No, Rat. Fox isn't mad. He misses you and he's worried about you." 

 

Fox leaned close, anxiously. 

 

"Where is he? Is he all right? Can we go get him?" 

 

Walter comforted Fox, pulling him close. 

 

"Alex? Hang on a second, Fox wants to talk to you. Don't hang up. Alex?" 

 

"I won't hang up." 

 

Fox took the phone with a shaking hand. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

"Fox?" 

 

At the sound of Alex's voice, Fox broke down. His shoulders shook as he sobbed into the phone. 

 

"Please, please, Alex," he begged. "Come home. Please come home. We can work this out. Please." 

 

Fox listened for a moment, wiping away tears, then handed the phone back to Walter. 

 

"He wants to talk to you." 

 

"Alex? It's me." 

 

"Walter? I... I don't know what to do. I thought it was real. I'm so sorry, I made a mess of it all. I'm sorry." 

 

His voice was muffled, as though he were hiding his face. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

Walter knew he had to take charge of the situation now, before he lost the chance to get Alex back. He didn't want to take the risk of his skittish young lover bolting again. 

 

"Yes, I'm here," Alex answered, his voice full of despair. 

 

Walter straightened his shoulders and let a good deal of AD creep into his voice. 

 

"Where are you?" he said again. 

 

Alex hesitated. "L-Luxembourg," he answered quietly. 

 

"Luxembourg," Walter mouthed to Fox, whose eyes widened. 

 

"How long before the next flight to D.C.?" Walter asked, his tone demanding an answer. 

 

He was beginning to sweat a little. It was important to be stern, but not too stern. He knew Alex responded to the commanding tone, but he needed to make sure that, above all else, what Alex heard in his voice was love. 

 

Another pause and a faint rustling as Alex apparently turned to scan the flight departures board. Finally he spoke again. 

 

"Two hours." 

 

Walter gripped the phone tightly. He had to convince Alex to get on that plane. 

 

"Alex?" he said, in his AD voice. "I want you on that plane. We love you and we need you here, with us. I want you to buy a ticket and get on that plane. And while you're waiting, I want you to think about us, about how much we love you. How much we miss you. You're going to get on that plane and come home to us, Alex." 

 

"I miss you so much," Alex said mournfully, his voice cracking. 

 

"Yes, Alex, I know. I know, Rat," Walter soothed, his tone a little softer now. He hardened it again, just slightly. "Are you going to do what I told you, Alex? Are you going to buy a ticket and get on that plane?" 

 

An endless pause. Walter closed his eyes and gripped Fox's hand tightly. 

 

At last, Alex spoke, his voice almost too soft to be heard. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

Walter held Fox's hand against his chest. 

 

"Fox and I are going to pick you up at Dulles. The flight's coming into Dulles, right, Alex?" 

 

Another pause. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"And you'll be on that flight. You will be, won't you, Alex?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I will." 

 

"Promise me, Alex," Walter said firmly, his knuckles white. "Promise me you'll be on that flight." 

 

The longest pause yet. Walter's heart kept a frantic count of the seconds. 

 

"Yes, sir," came the soft reply. "I promise." 

 

A moment later, the phone rested again in its cradle and Walter was holding a sobbing Fox. 

 

"He's coming back, right? Right, Walter?" Fox whispered into Walter's chest. 

 

Walter rubbed circles on Fox's bare back. 

 

"Yes, Fox," he said quietly. "Yes, he is." 

 

 

Epilogue 

 

Alex had been home three days. 

 

Fox and Walter waited anxiously for him to get off the plane, their hearts pounding, their eyes searching the disembarking passengers frantically. Walter replayed the conversation over and over in his mind. Had he been stern enough? Had he been too stern? Had Alex lost his nerve and not gotten on the plane? 

 

At last they caught sight of him, a pale face in the crowd. He looked tired to the bone, his battered bag slung over his shoulder. He walked hesitantly toward them, his green eyes filled with anxiety and pain. He closed them as he was enveloped in his lovers' arms, as kisses rained on his cheeks and throat and lips, as they murmured their love, their thanks that he was home. 

 

Home. 

 

Welcome home, they said. You're home. 

 

Alex dissolved then, burying his face in Fox's shoulder, feeling Walter's hands rubbing his back. 

 

They had taken him home and put him to bed, neither of them wanting to leave his side. His story came out in bits and pieces. When he had realized that the virus was a hoax, when he had seen the look on Walter's face, he had panicked, thinking he had finally done the truly unforgivable. He had swiftly made his way to the airport and grabbed the first flight out. He had stayed in a series of cheap, anonymous motels, eating little, sleeping less, longing for home. The frantic voice mails had convinced him to try, just once, to call home. To see if it was too late. 

 

For three days, he allowed Fox and Walter to pamper him, guiltily basking in their love and attention. They barely allowed him to leave the bed, even bringing his meals upstairs, kissing him, massaging him, spending as much time as they could just touching him, just feeling his flesh against theirs. Looking at him as though they were trying to commit him to memory, as though he might vanish like a mirage should they look away even for a moment. Alex's relief was overwhelming. He had spent every moment away from them sick with worry, torturing himself with the fear that he might never spend another moment with his lovers in their big bed, being held and kissed and loved. 

 

Alex looked up as Fox came into the room with his dinner on the good silver tray. 

 

"It's okay, Fox, I can come down to dinner." He pushed back the covers and began to rise. 

 

"Oh, no you don't," Fox said with a smile, pointing sternly at the bed. "You stay put. We're having dinner in bed with you. Walter's on his way up with the rest of the food." Fox put the tray on the bed and lay down beside Alex. 

 

Alex's eyes widened appreciatively at the cut glass bowl full of ripe strawberries, dusted delicately with powdered sugar. He smiled as Walter entered the room, balancing two more trays laden with food, a bottle of white wine tucked under one arm. 

 

"I hope you're hungry," he said with a grin. "I made your favorite." He placed the two trays down on the bed and raised the covers from the plates with a flourish. "Chicken Kiev." 

 

Alex smiled as Walter draped the linen napkin across his lap. 

 

"Thank you, Walter," he whispered. "It looks wonderful." 

 

Walter made himself comfortable on the bed, resting his arm across Fox's back. Walter pointed at Alex's plate. 

 

"You can thank me by finishing every bite," he said with his best AD growl. "A few hot meals aren't nearly enough to make up for a week of hard living and motel food. That goes for you, too, Fox," he added, gesturing toward Fox's plate. "You've been walking on air since Alex came back. I think you'd forget to eat altogether if I didn't put it in front of you." 

 

Fox grinned and leered at Walter, reaching out to stroke Alex's thigh through the quilt. 

 

"Maybe I'm hungry for something else..." he purred, licking his lips. 

 

Walter gave Fox a playful swat on his upturned butt. 

 

"Hold that thought, brat. Dinner first, fun later." Walter paused and grinned at Alex. "We'll need our strength, after all." 

 

Alex's eyes shone, surrounded as he was by his two relaxed and attentive lovers and plate after plate of delicious food. He closed his eyes reverently and opened his mouth for the plump strawberry that Fox held to his lips. Alex bit deeply with a heartfelt groan of pleasure. 

 

"Fox," Walter admonished, with a mock-stern look, "those are for dessert. You're going to spoil his dinner." 

 

Fox leaned up on his elbow and kissed Alex. It was a long, slow, deep kiss that tasted of strawberries and sugar, of Alex home again. He grinned mischievously. 

 

"It's him I'm trying to spoil," he said, looking at Alex with tenderness in his eyes. "I'm going to spoil him for the rest of his life." 

 

Alex colored and looked down, smiling, his heart seeming to swell to the bursting at those words. He knew he would remember those words until the day he died. He looked back up at his lovers. 

 

"I... I don't deserve—" he broke off, biting his lip. Deserve, Alex? Alex winced at the nagging little voice in the back of his mind. You know what you deserve and sure as hell isn't strawberries. Alex swallowed. Fox and Walter were looking at him expectantly. He sighed and picked up his fork, taking a bite of chicken, deeply moved by their devotion to him, after all he had done. They watched him eat, their faces alight with happiness, so glad that he was home. Alex smiled, his eyes full of tears of gratitude, even as his heart ached with the knowledge of how he had hurt Walter and Fox. He wanted to relax and enjoy the pampering, but that little voice wouldn't let him. It had been so easy, before, to silence that little voice, on the rare occasions that it had been moved to speak. 

 

He would have sneered at the idea of a conscience in those dark and empty days when responsibility was for fools, when consequences were something that happened only to people who got too old and slow to stay in the game. Alex smiled a little, thinking that he never really noticed that little voice before his life had taken such a sudden and surprising turn. Before his heart, and frequently, his butt was warmed by Walter's strong and steadfast love. He chuckled a little, drawing two amused gazes. Amazing how clear and strident that little voice became when he was over Walter's knee, studying the carpet, waiting for the first swat. He knew he couldn't avoid hearing that voice now, even if he wanted to. 

 

Alex stood outside Walter's study, his hand on the doorknob. He remembered another time, long ago, it seemed, when he had stood outside this door, trying to work up the courage to go inside and ask for what he knew he needed. Alex took a deep breath and, as he had that first time, knocked tentatively and opened the door. 

 

Walter was at his desk, scribbling notes on a legal pad. A stack of manila folders lay beside him. 

 

"Walter?" Alex said nervously. 

 

Walter looked up and smiled. 

 

"How are you feeling?" 

 

"Okay," Alex said, smiling a little. "I think I've slept more in the last three days than I have my whole life." 

 

He sat down in one of the chairs that faced Walter's desk. 

 

"You needed the rest," Walter said. "You wore yourself out." 

 

Alex nodded, looking down. He looked up and their eyes met in unspoken understanding. 

 

"It's time, isn't it?" Alex said softly. "Time for you to punish me." 

 

Walter nodded, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. 

 

"You needed time, Alex. I knew that you would know when you were ready." 

 

Alex looked down again, his voice almost too soft to be heard. 

 

"Fox should be here." 

 

Walter nodded in agreement. He stood and left the room, pausing on the way to give Alex's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He returned a moment later with Fox. 

 

Fox sat in the other chair, perching on the edge of the seat, bouncing one leg nervously. 

 

"I... I don't have to be here, Alex," he said quietly. "I don't need to see this. I mean, I'll stay if you want, but... I respect your privacy." 

 

Alex looked into Fox's eyes with love and trust. 

 

"I want you here, Fox. It's only right. Remember what you said to me at Christmas? It's part of the life we share, the three of us. What I did affected you, too. It's right that you're here. Please stay." 

 

Fox nodded, steeling his resolve. He hated seeing Alex punished. Alex's cries seemed to cut him to the quick. But if Alex wanted him there, he would be there. 

 

Alex paled as Walter opened his desk drawer. He'd expected the paddle. He knew he deserved it. But that didn't make the anticipation any easier. Walter placed the small, leather-covered paddle in the center of the desk and nodded at Alex. 

 

Alex stood and removed his clothes, folding them and placing them on the seat of the chair. He walked around the desk and stood before Walter, his head bowed. 

 

"I think we'll save the corner time for later," Walter said reaching out to hold Alex's hand. "We need closure. Best to get this over with." 

 

He paused and looked into Alex's eyes. 

 

"I'm very proud of you for coming to me, Alex. For accepting responsibility for your actions. You've come a long way." 

 

Alex's eyes shone and he blushed with pleasure at the compliment. 

 

Alex nodded. Walter pushed back from the desk to make room and guided Alex down over his knees. He raised his right leg slightly to raise Alex's bare bottom higher for the punishment he was about to administer. Walter stroked Alex's dark hair, felt him settle a little. Alex clung to Walter's leg and closed his eyes, almost willing the first swat. He felt awful about what happened. He had made a terrible mistake and then compounded it by disappearing and making his lovers worry. Alex shook his head. Why couldn't he ever get it right? Walter looked down with concern. 

 

"Are you okay, Alex?" 

 

Alex nodded. 

 

"I'm... I'm okay." 

 

Walter rubbed Alex's back. He looked at the paddle lying on the desk, looked down at his lover's beautiful ass. He sighed, hating what he had to do. But he knew he would do Alex a disservice to deny him the closure he needed, to withhold the discipline the younger man felt he so rightly deserved. 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter began. Fox shifted nervously in his chair and Walter smiled at him reassuringly. Fox gave a nod and settled. 

 

"Why are you being punished?" 

 

Alex was silent for a long moment. Walter rubbed higher, between his shoulderblades. 

 

Alex spoke, his voice low and ashamed. 

 

"I... I gave you bad information. I trusted my source and I didn't check it out first." 

 

"Could you have?" Walter asked. "Was there a way that you could have verified it?" 

 

Alex thought for a minute. 

 

"Yes," he admitted. "I could have made some calls. But I thought it was legitimate. He never steered me wrong before. I believed him," he finished softly. 

 

"Let's talk about this informant," Walter said. "This is obviously someone from your former life, from your time with the Consortium." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex whispered. 

 

"And he had your private e-mail address?" 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"Is this the private e-mail account you just opened in the Fall? The hotmail account?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, wincing. His buttocks clenched at the thought of the blistering to come. 

 

"So it's safe to say then that you've been in contact with him recently. That you gave him your new e-mail address because you wanted to stay in touch with him. To get information from him. Even though you know you are forbidden to have contact with anyone connected with your former life." 

 

Alex's eyes filled with guilty tears. 

 

"Y-yes, sir." 

 

"Why, Alex? Surely you knew it was wrong? You knew what I would think?" 

 

Alex gulped. "Yes, sir. I-I did know. And I'm sorry. But I wanted to make sure I still had a source, still had a conduit for information. In case there was ever any danger. I thought maybe he could alert me in time to make sure you and Fox were protected." 

 

Walter considered this. He looked down at his Rat and stroked his hair again. 

 

"I believe you, Alex, that your heart was in the right place, just as it was when you warned us about the virus. I believe you did what you did because you were worried about protecting Fox and myself. But I forbade you to have any contact with anyone from your old life for a reason. Do you understand that you broke the rules we agreed on? That what you did was wrong?" 

 

Alex blinked back the tears that were already threatening to flow. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry. I really am. I won't ever do it again. Please believe me." 

 

"I do, Rat, I do believe you. But you still have to be punished." 

 

Alex nodded. "I know," he said softly. 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter said, his tone grave. "Now let's talk about the most serious offense. Do you know what that was? Was it passing on inaccurate information that caused a great deal of trouble? Getting the entire city of Washington evacuated?" 

 

Alex hesitated. Walter laid one arm across his back, wanting to maintain physical contact with Alex at all times, to keep him anchored and secure. 

 

"You believed the virus warning was real and you acted accordingly. You could have verified it but you didn't. It did cause a great deal of trouble and you will be punished for that. But was that the worst thing you did?" 

 

Alex bit his lip. 

 

"No, sir." 

 

He took a deep, trembling breath. 

 

"I ran away, I left you!" Alex began to cry. "I got scared and I ran, and I didn't tell you where I was, and I was just so scared you were mad at me and that you'd never forgive me." 

 

He paused, his eyes shut tightly in a futile effort to staunch the flow of tears that now streamed down his cheeks. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of Walter's hand resting on his back, keeping him centered, keeping him close. 

 

"I left you," he cried. "I left you, and I could've been hurt or killed and you wouldn't have known what happened to me, that I loved you, that I missed you, and I know it was wrong, I let my fear get the better of me and I should have come to you but I ran instead," the words tumbled out of him in one long, agonized stream. "I left you," he repeated, sobbing almost too hard to speak. "I left you, my loves, I left you and I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." 

 

Alex dropped his head down and bawled. Fox was instantly at his side, cradling his head in his hands, kissing away his tears. Fox's heart ached at the naked pain on Alex's face. Alex never cried like this. Fox whispered softly to Alex, knowing his lover needed this rare release. He looked up at Walter pleadingly. Walter pulled Alex up into a sitting position and held him, let him cry. 

 

After a time, Alex quieted. He looked up at Walter with reddened eyes. 

 

"Okay," he said quietly. 

 

Walter looked at him with concern. Fox's eyes had begged Walter not to punish Alex and Walter had been struggling with the decision as Alex cried, his tears soaking Walter's shirt. He knew Alex needed the punishment, needed to feel forgiven, needed to truly understand that running away from his problems only made things worse. But Walter had been moved to tears himself by Alex's sobs and wondered if he would be able to do what needed to be done. Alex looked up and gently stroked Walter's cheek, his green eyes shining with understanding. 

 

Alex turned and looked at the leather-covered paddle with loathing. God, but that thing hurt. He swallowed hard and turned back to Walter. 

 

"Okay," he said again, standing and then bending once more over Walter's lap. "I'm ready." 

 

Surprised, Walter helped Alex get into position. 

 

"Are you sure, Alex?" he asked. He knew if Alex said no he would grant him a reprieve. Alex had been through enough. 

 

Alex raised his head and looked at Fox, back in his chair, watching anxiously. 

 

"Yes," Alex said quietly. "I deserve it. I know I do. Go ahead, Walter, please, before I lose my nerve. I earned a paddling, I know I did. Please just get it over with so we can put this behind us." 

 

Walter nodded and picked up the paddle. 

 

"All right, Alex. Having contact with the informant after I forbade you to have anything to do with people from your former life, that's very serious. You know how I feel about that. I'm giving you ten for that. And as soon as we're done here you will close that e-mail account. In three months, we'll discuss whether you'll be allowed to open a new one." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex whispered. 

 

Walter continued. 

 

"As for passing on the virus warning and creating general pandemonium... I bear some responsibility for that myself. I took your informant at his word, just as you did, and it was my actions that resulted in the involvement of my superiors and the evacuation of the city. Therefore, I'm only giving you five swats for this offense. Your intentions were good and you honestly believed the threat was real. But," he added sternly, "from now on, you'll get your information from legitimate sources only, just like everyone else. Is that clear?" 

 

Alex smiled and nodded. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"And," Walter continued, "you will write an essay of at least five thousand words on famous hoaxes throughout history and their effect on society." 

 

Alex swallowed hard. Walter knew he hated writing assignments more than anything. He would gladly take a spanking any day of the week rather than spend a boring afternoon in the study under Walter's watchful eye, glumly contemplating the vast expanse of blank white paper before him. 

 

"Y-yes, sir," he said reluctantly. 

 

"All right," Walter said, rubbing Alex's back. "I think we all agree that the last offense is the most serious. You left, Alex. You panicked and you ran without a word to either of us. We were worried sick about you. We didn't know where you were or if you were all right. I don't think Fox and I got more than twelve hours of sleep that entire week." Walter raised the paddle. "Twenty-five for that, Alex. For running away instead of coming to us and talking about it. For robbing us of you. For taking our lover away for one agonizing week." 

 

Alex nodded, close to tears again. Hearing how his disappearance had affected his lovers, hearing the hurt in Walter's voice, this was the hardest for him. 

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cried. "I won't do it again, never, I swear." 

 

"I'm going to see to it, Rat," Walter said, not unkindly. "If I have to paddle this beautiful butt of yours every night for the rest of your life." 

 

Walter brought the paddle down with a resounding crack. Alex jumped and kicked a little but tried not to cry out. Walter raised the paddle again with the knowledge that his arm was about to get very, very sore. 

 

Alex lost his battle to stay silent around the fifth swat. He yelled and bucked helplessly as the paddle smacked down with unerring accuracy, his bottom quickly becoming hot, red and swollen. 

 

Fox gripped the arms of the chair, cringing with every swat, his heart aching and stomach wrenching as each deep sob broke out of Alex. 

 

Walter spanked Alex with a steady rhythm, covering first one cheek and then the other with smart whacks, blazing a trial of fire across Alex's naked backside. 

 

Alex clung to Walter's leg, his eyes shut tight, tears squeezing past the barrier of his thick lashes. He felt as though his bottom would simply explode under the constant, implacable rise and fall of the paddle. 

 

"Oww!" he cried, twisting and writhing under Walter's immovable arm. "Ow, Walter, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I swear I won't!" 

 

"No more shady informants, Alex? No more unsubstantiated virus warnings? No more running off and leaving us, the ones who love you more than anything in the world, instead of facing your problems?" 

 

Walter hated to be so hard on Alex but he needed to know. He needed to know the lesson was being learned, that it was sinking in. 

 

"Yes! I swear! Never again, Walter, I'll learn, I swear I will! Please..." 

 

Alex hung his head and cried, praying for it to be over. 

 

"Only ten more, Alex," Walter said softly, rubbing between his shoulderblades. 

 

"Oh, no, please," Alex cried, "I... I don't think I can, please, Walter..." 

 

Fox raised his head. 

 

"He's had enough, Walter, you heard him." 

 

Walter looked at Alex. 

 

"Are you sure, Rat? You've got ten left. You decide." 

 

Alex thought for a minute, trying to think clearly despite the burning agony that engulfed his backside. 

 

"The... the last ten," he sniffled, "those are for running away?" 

 

"Yes," Walter answered. "Part of the last twenty-five. You've had fifteen of them. If you don't think you can take another ten, we'll wait and do them another time." 

 

"No," Alex choked. "Now, please. Please let's get it over with. I... I earned them, Walter, Fox, I earned every one. I left you. I panicked and ran away and... I-I hurt you, and I know I deserve it." 

 

He gripped Walter's leg more tightly. 

 

"Okay," he whispered. 

 

Walter raised the paddle again and brought it down ten times in rapid succession, the sound of the crisp smacks filling the room. Alex yowled and cried, his sobs growing louder with each swat. 

 

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, kicking fruitlessly. "I'm sorry, I love you, I love you! I'll never leave you again, I swear!" 

 

At last it was over. Alex felt himself gathered into Walter's arms and held. He began sobbing his apologies again but was immediately shushed. 

 

"It's all right, Alex," Walter whispered, rocking him gently. "I love you and Fox loves you. We both love you more than life." 

 

Alex clung to him tightly, feeling those strong arms close around him. 

 

"Love you too," he said softly, and rested his head on Walter's shoulder. Fox knelt beside the chair and rested his head on Walter's other shoulder, his long, slender fingers stroking Alex's dark hair. 

 

They stayed like that for a time, silent but for the occasional whispered words of devotion. Walter helped Alex to stand and led him toward the stairs. Fox followed, tears drying on his cheeks. He got the bottle of aloe from the bathroom and followed his lovers into the bedroom. 

 

Walter lay Alex gently on the bed. Fox sat beside him, the bottle of aloe in his hand. Alex continued to cry quietly. 

 

"That's it, Alex," Walter said softly. "Cry it out. It's over now, you're forgiven. You're loved and you're safe." 

 

Walter's eyes met Fox's. They smiled at one another with understanding as Fox squeezed a generous amount of the aloe into Walter's outstretched hand. Fox began smoothing the cooling gel into one red cheek and Walter began doing the same to the other. Alex raised his head and looked at his lovers, smiling through his tears. 

 

"Just lie down, Rat," said Walter gently. "Let us take care of you." 

 

Each man focused intently on one side of Alex's red, swollen bottom. Fox and Walter lovingly smoothed the gel over the heated flesh, massaging it in gently. Alex buried his face in the pillow and sighed. 

 

Soon, Fox and Walter lay beside him, one on each side. Fox stroked Alex's hair while Walter massaged his neck and shoulders. 

 

"Please don't ever leave us again, baby," Fox whispered. 

 

"I won't," Alex answered softly, his voice rough from his cries. "I'll come to you, both of you, and talk when I get scared." 

 

"Promise us, Rat," Walter whispered, kissing his back. Alex arched and moaned. Walter knew that secret spot on his back was one of Alex's favorite places to be kissed. 

 

"I promise," Alex whispered. "Never again. I'll never leave you again." 

 

And felt his lovers draw even closer. 

 

The End


	5. Christmas Trilogy V:  The Scent of Battle

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimer: Mine! After season 8, no court would convict me. 

Warning: m/m interaction, discipline, spanking, foul language, obscene gestures and abuse of toiletries. 

Status: New/Series. Part of the Christmas Trilogy universe. 

Follows "Red", "Green", "Gold" and "Rainy Days and Mondays". 

Summary: Another of my apology snippets gone crazy. I was framed! Framed, I tell ya! 

Dedication: For Gaby, who got me in trouble in the first place. Feel better soon, kid. 

Author's Note: Krycek has two arms. 

 

 

The Scent of Battle 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Walter Skinner put his key in the front door, already feeling twenty pounds lighter. It was Friday evening. He had a whole weekend ahead of him. Time to forget about work, about Kersh, about budgets and briefs and memos. He hung up his coat, stowed it and his briefcase in the hall closet, took off his jacket and loosened his tie, whistling a jaunty little tune. Another long hard week was over and now all he wanted was to have a glass of wine and then take his boys out to dinner. 

 

Walter smiled as he went into the kitchen and got a wine glass down from the rack. He poured himself a glass of Chardonnay and sipped it with a sigh of pleasure. Now all he needed was a good hot shower and a change of clothes, and they would be off to Georgetown, to that intimate little steak place they all loved so much. Candlelight, burnished wood, the rich heavy draperies shutting out all thoughts of the outside world...Walter sipped again and closed his eyes. A slab of Black Angus grilled to perfection, Fox and Alex, dressed in their finest, enjoying a wonderful evening together, just the three of them, and peace and quiet... 

 

CRASH! 

 

Walter jumped, sloshing wine over the side of his glass. 

 

"What the hell?!?" he spluttered. He hastily put his glass down on the counter and hurried into the living room. 

 

CRASH! 

 

Another bone-rattling crash from upstairs. Walter stood slack-jawed as bits of plaster rained down from the ceiling and the picture of his mother fell off the wall and disappeared behind the sofa. Walter turned toward the staircase just as a series of bumps and thumps sounded, followed by what sounded like yelling. 

 

Walter took the stairs two at a time. 

 

He followed the sounds to the master bedroom and then to the en suite bathroom. He hit the door running but what he saw made him stop in his tracks, frozen in place as his eyes tried to process what they were seeing. 

 

The bathroom was in shambles. 

 

The door to the medicine cabinet hung crazily from one hinge. Assorted bottles of cough syrup, disposable razors, cotton swabs and pill bottles littered the vanity. Walter's pot of ivy, which had sat on a small shelf above the toilet, now lay on the floor, the ceramic pot broken and surrounded by potting soil. The shelf lay beside it, upside down, the bottles and tubes of lotions and creams it had also held scattered around it. 

 

And in the middle of all of this, stark naked, were Fox and Alex. Shouting, cursing and growling at one another, rolling on the floor, each obviously intent on doing the other serious bodily harm. Walter gaped in astonishment. They had seemed to be bickering a lot lately, but this was the first time things had escalated to the point of an actual fight. Walter stood, momentarily distracted by the sight of two sets of bare, delectable buttocks, flexing and writhing as his lovers tussled on the tile floor. Walter shook himself out of his reverie. His jaw clenched and his temples began to pound. So much for the romantic evening he had planned. He took a step forward. 

 

Then the smell hit him. 

 

Walter staggered back, his eyes watering. It smelled like someone had lobbed a hand grenade into the men's toiletries department at Macy's. He stood back a little from the doorway and gasped for air. He scanned the room, quickly finding the source. There, lying on the bathroom floor, just inches from where his naked lovers were grimly fighting one another, lay the bottle of Dolce and Gabbana cologne he had given Fox for his birthday. Broken. The green glass bottle was in pieces, surrounded by a pool of yellowish liquid. Walter took a deep breath and headed into the fray. 

 

Fox had Alex on his stomach, one hand full of dark hair, trying to rub his face into the bathmat. 

 

"You did it on purpose, you Rat!" he yelled. "And I'm going to hear you admit it!" 

 

Alex managed a deft maneuver and threw Fox off him, quickly leaping atop the sprawling man. 

 

"I told you it was an accident! I am so sick of your pouting! If you hadn't grabbed me it never would have happened!" 

 

Furious, Alex felt around beside him and came up with a handful of damp potting soil. He grinned. 

 

"Don't you DARE!" Fox yelled, trying to twist out of Alex's grip. 

 

"What's the matter, Foxy?" Alex taunted. "Scared of a little dirt?" 

 

Fox managed to hit Alex's hand, making him drop most of the soil. Alex growled and they began to wrestle again. 

 

The two loud whacks sounded like gunshots in the small room. 

 

"OWW!" Fox and Alex yelled in unison. They looked up, their jaws dropping and their eyes widening in horror as they realized the mess they had, literally and figuratively, gotten themselves in. 

 

Walter stood, hands on hips, his rumpled shirt and loosened tie in no way detracting from the image of a stern and very angry AD intent on pounding some sense into two very bare bottoms. Walter looked at the bottoms in question as their owners scrambled to their feet. Each of his boys now bore a perfect red handprint on one formerly unblemished buttock. 

 

Fox and Alex stood before him, their eyes looking in any direction but his, biting their lips and shuffling from foot to foot. Each was tempted to sneak a hand back to rub but they were in enough trouble already. 

 

Walter's voice was calm and terrible. 

 

"Would either of you," he paused and glared meaningfully at each of the two miscreants, "like to tell me just what the hell is going on?" 

 

Two sets of eyes studied the tile floor. 

 

"NOW!" Walter roared. Fox and Alex jumped, then began talking at once, their voices rising and mingling into an unintelligible din that made Skinner want to put his hands over his ears. 

 

"That's enough," he snapped. "Fox, start talking. Alex, I'll hear your side in a minute." 

 

Alex pouted, as much as he dared. Fox glanced fearfully at Walter and then began to tell his story. 

 

"We were getting ready for dinner, Walter. Alex had taken a shower and I was about to take mine, when I came in and," he paused, glaring accusingly at Alex, "I found him using MY Dolce and Gabbana cologne!" 

 

Fox's eyes flashed as he relived the story of the outrage he had been obliged to suffer. 

 

"It's the cologne you gave me for my birthday," he sniffed. "He knows it's special to me, and it's two hundred dollars a bottle! He didn't even ask me first, he just took it!" 

 

"I just wanted a couple of drops!" Alex yelled. "I didn't think you'd mind! We always share everything!" 

 

"Alex..." Walter said warningly. Alex flushed and looked down, biting his tongue. 

 

"That's not the point," Fox said icily. "You know it's my favorite. You know it's special, because Walter gave it to me for my birthday. You should have asked." 

 

Fox looked back up at Walter, his eyes brimming with tears. 

 

"And when I came in and found him stealing my cologne, he threw the bottle on the floor and broke it!" 

 

Walter looked at Alex with surprise. That didn't sound like his Rat at all. 

 

Alex could not keep silent. Tears of anger and frustration sprang to his own eyes as he pointed at Fox with a shaking finger. 

 

"It's not true, Walter!" he shouted. "Fox grabbed my arm and I dropped the bottle! I didn't mean to! I didn't!" 

 

Fox glared at Alex. 

 

"You're jealous. Jealous of me and jealous that Walter gave me the cologne I wanted even though it was so expensive. You're always jealous." Fox felt the anger rising in him and knew he was about to go too far, but he just couldn't stop the hurtful words before they made it out of his mouth. 

 

"Once a thief, always a thief! You always want what I have! Doesn't that explain why you're here?" 

 

Alex gasped and went white. His face seemed to clamp shut and he turned and ran from the room. 

 

Walter looked at Fox, aghast. 

 

"Fox..." 

 

Fox blushed furiously and looked down, unable to believe what he had just done. He was too ashamed to look at Walter, but too angry to apologize. 

 

Walter grasped Fox firmly by the shoulder. 

 

"Downstairs, now, and find your corner. I'm going after him. I'll be down in a few minutes and if I find you doing anything except pressing your nose against the wall then your butt and my belt are going to have a serious discussion." 

 

Fox paled and rushed from the room. Walter took another look around at the mess Fox and Alex had made of their lovely bathroom and shook his head sadly. He turned on the overhead fan and closed the door, hoping it would help clear the smell of the powerful cologne out. The mess would just have to wait. He had another, more important mess to clean up. 

 

Walter found Alex in the bedroom. He took one look at his Rat and felt cold all over. Just that morning those green eyes had sparkled at him across the breakfast table, every glance saying "I love you". Now those eyes were flat and without hope. Tears ran silently down Alex's face as he quickly stuffed clothing into his knapsack, not even looking at the crumpled shirts and underwear he was grabbing from the bureau drawers. He had taken time to throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, apparently not noticing that the T-shirt was on inside-out. 

 

"Alex," Walter said softly. "Alex, stop." 

 

Alex didn't respond. He bit his lip and pulled another drawer open, unable to stifle a sob as he began grabbing handfuls of socks and shoving them in with the shirts and boxers. 

 

Walter sat on the edge of the bed. 

 

"Alex," he said again. "What are you doing? Where are you going?" 

 

Alex shrugged, trying not to cry. 

 

"I don't know, Walter. He...you heard him. I'm just in the way. I'm just someone trying to take what's his. He doesn't...doesn't want me..." 

 

Alex broke down and sobbed helplessly, his knapsack in his hand, hurting and unsure of what to do. He was angry at Fox, it was true, but what Fox had said had cut him to the heart. He stood in front of Walter, shaking, miserable with the fear of leaving. Terrified of staying and facing what seemed to be Fox's hatred of him. The pain in Alex's eyes made Walter's chest tighten a little. He looked into those eyes, held them with his steady gaze. Held out his arms. 

 

"Alex," he whispered. Alex dropped the knapsack and hurled himself into Walter's arms. He buried his face in Walter's chest and cried as though his heart would break. 

 

"I don't want to go, I don't want to go..." he said over and over, between sobs. Walter held him, making soothing noises, rubbed his back. 

 

"I know, Rat," he said quietly. "I know." 

 

At length, Alex's tears subsided. Walter sat Alex beside him on the bed, wiped away his tears. Alex looked down, picked at the comforter with one hand. 

 

"Alex," Walter said gently but firmly. "You do know that Fox didn't mean what he said, don't you?" 

 

Alex shrugged a little, his chin trembling a little. 

 

"I'd like to. But...he said it, Walter. What if that's how he really feels?" 

 

Walter took Alex's chin in his hand, cupping it and feeling the trembling subside. He brought Alex's face up, looked into his eyes. 

 

"Alex," he began. "You two had a fight. A bad one. It's probably fair to say you both said some things you didn't mean. Isn't it?" 

 

Alex nodded guiltily. 

 

"Now," Walter continued. "Nothing has happened that can't be fixed. You're both upset right now. But we will work through this. After all that's happened in the past, everything we've overcome, I don't think we're going to let a broken bottle of cologne ruin everything, are we?" 

 

Alex smiled a little. He looked up at Walter hopefully. 

 

"I...I guess you're right. But Fox is still so mad. And I..." he hesitated. 

 

"Yes?" Walter prompted. 

 

Alex felt himself pouting and couldn't help it. 

 

"Well...he was wrong," he said at last. "I...I guess I'm still mad too." 

 

Walter laughed and kissed Alex. 

 

"I know. I know you both think you were right and the other was wrong. But as I said," Walter paused and gave Alex a meaningful look, "we're going to get to the bottom of it. Right?" 

 

Alex gulped and nodded. 

 

Walter stood. 

 

"Now," he said, pointing toward the bedroom door. "Get those clothes off and get downstairs. Find your corner and do some serious thinking about your behavior this evening. Fox is already there and he had better be doing the same thing. Make no mistake, Alex," he said, his tone growing slightly more gentle. "I love you. With all my heart. You and Fox both. But you both behaved appallingly tonight and you will both be punished. Is that understood?" 

 

Alex quickly began undressing. He swallowed hard. 

 

"Yes, sir," he said softly. 

 

"Good," Walter said, mentally wiping his brow. He watched as his skittish young lover finished taking off his clothes and left the room, his footfalls sounding on the stairs. Walter looked at Alex's forgotten knapsack, lying on the floor next to the bed, and sighed. Another narrow escape. He was worried that one day Alex really would leave, that his fragile security would be irrevocably broken and he would be gone forever. Walter forced that thought from his mind. He thought about what awaited him over the rest of the evening and wondered if it was worth going into that bathroom again for the antacid. He started for the stairs, musing disappointedly on the restaurant and the splendid meal they would now miss. He hoped there was some chicken salad left in the fridge. He would consider his lovers' punishment while they ate. He paused in the hallway and went back for the antacid. 

 

Walter passed through the living room, noting approvingly that both Fox and Alex were doing as he had instructed. The red handprints on their lovely bottoms were fading now, but Walter intended to mark them and mark them well when the time came. He stopped on his way to the kitchen and regarded the two naked combatants, slumped miserably in their corners. 

 

"I don't want to hear a word out of either of you," he said sternly. "I think it goes without saying that dinner out tonight is cancelled. I am going to fix dinner for us all, soup and sandwiches. You will remain in your corners, thinking about what you did, until I return." 

 

Walter went into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He replaced his glasses and went to the freezer, taking down a large container of homemade broccoli and cheese soup his mother had sent home with him on his last visit. He quickly and efficiently set the table, stirred the rapidly thawing soup. A short time later, Walter went back into the living room. He sat down heavily on the sofa. 

 

"Come here, you two," he said, not unkindly. Slowly, Fox and Alex came to stand before him, their hands behind their backs, not looking at each other. 

 

Walter regarded them silently. After a few minutes, they began to fidget nervously. 

 

"I am absolutely horrified at your behavior tonight," Walter finally said. Alex winced. Fox bit his lip. Walter eyed them both sternly and continued. 

 

"I came home tonight, after a long and stressful week at the office, looking forward to taking the two of you out for a beautiful dinner at our favorite place, and what do I find? Do I find my two gorgeous lovers dressed and waiting for me? Happy to be together? Happy to have this lovely night, the three of us? No." 

 

Fox and Alex looked more miserable with every word. 

 

"What I find is, my lovers, on the floor, INTENT ON BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF EACH OTHER!" Walter roared, banging his fist on the arm of the sofa. Alex and Fox jumped. 

 

"I'm sorry, Walter," Fox said quickly. "But he broke my cologne bottle on purpose!" 

 

Alex stared at him in amazement. 

 

"I did NOT!" he yelled. "He grabbed me! He accused me of stealing! We always share everything! He's just acting like a spoiled brat!" 

 

Fox whirled on Alex. 

 

"Am not!" 

 

"Are too!" 

 

"Am not!" 

 

"ENOUGH!" Walter roared. "Stop it, the both of you!" 

 

Fox and Alex closed their mouths and lowered their eyes, their bottoms clenching involuntarily. Walter only raised his voice when he was truly upset. 

 

Walter stood and waited for their eyes to rise and meet his. 

 

"Now, I've had just about enough of this. You've been bickering and sniping at each other a lot lately and I don't know what the problem is but I guarantee you, it's going to stop. I think you've lost sight of just what's really important around here. You've lost sight of each other." 

 

Fox and Alex looked at one another uncomfortably. Walter folded his arms and eyed them evenly. 

 

"You two need to learn a lesson about just how important you are to one another. For the rest of this weekend, you will not leave this house. You will not speak to one another. You will not, under any circumstances, touch one another. Each infraction is worth six strokes of the cane. Am I understood, Fox?" 

 

Fox studied his feet. 

 

"Yes, sir," he mumbled softly. He risked a glare at Alex. Alex glared back. Shouldn't be too hard to go a whole weekend without talking to him, they each thought. Walter cleared his throat. 

 

"Alex?" 

 

Alex looked at Walter. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"Good," Walter said. "And one more thing, boys. You will remain naked for the duration. Now, into the kitchen. Dinner is ready." 

 

Dinner was a silent and tense affair. Walter was beginning to feel as though he were punishing himself as well. He missed the banter, the hands touching across the table, the sly games of footsie under it. He sighed and took a bite of his sandwich. They had to learn. 

 

Fox and Alex stared at their plates as they ate, occasionally looking up to shoot an accusing glare at the other. Walter caught each of them casting nervous looks at the rattan cane that he had placed in the center of the table as a reminder. 

 

After dinner, Walter led his naked lovers back into the living room and parked them in their corners. 

 

"I'm going to clean up the kitchen. I'm leaving the door open and I don't want to hear any talking." 

 

Two dark heads nodded, two noses found their marks on the wall. 

 

From his corner, Fox coughed, to draw Alex's attention. He glanced nervously toward the kitchen door. Walter hadn't said they couldn't cough, had he? Alex looked warily at Fox. Fox shot him a hard look, pointed his finger at him. 

 

"YOUR fault," he mouthed. 

 

Alex scowled and held up his hand. He used a different finger. 

 

Walter came into the room, wiping his hands on the dishcloth. 

 

"Do you two need some help understanding what's expected of you while you're in your corners?" 

 

Two dark heads shook emphatically. 

 

"Good." 

 

Walter led them back into the now spotless kitchen and seated them both at the kitchen table. He had to use all of his strength not to smile at the twin looks of revulsion on their faces when they saw the new legal pads and pens laid out for them. 

 

Walter left the kitchen door open again. He paused before going back into the living room. 

 

"All right. Fox, you will be writing 'I will learn to treat Alex with love, consideration and respect. I am lucky to have him in my heart and in my life' one thousand times. Alex, you will do the same, substituting Fox's name for your own. I want it neat and I want it legible and I want you both to think about every single word you write. I'm going to clean up the living room." 

 

He placed the cane back on the table. "I want two hundred and fifty out of each of you before bed. And you know what happens if I hear a word out of either of you." 

 

Walter went into the living room and got the carpet sweeper to clean up the plaster that had been knocked down from the ceiling. He fished behind the sofa for his mother's picture and hung it up again, glad the glass had survived intact. 

 

In the kitchen, Alex and Fox stared at one another for a long moment. Finally, Alex bit his lip and picked up his pen. Fox picked up his as well and they both began to write, occasionally stealing a look at the other's paper, to see who had written more. 

 

Walter stood in the bedroom, with Alex and Fox in front of him. They had finished their two hundred and fifty lines in a dead heat, and had spent another hour silently cleaning up the bathroom under Walter's watchful eye. 

 

"Now," Walter said. "Bedtime. Alex on the right, Fox on the left, and I will be in the middle. There will be no talking and no touching. I suggest you both stay well to your own sides of the bed because if you touch even accidentally, you will be punished." 

 

Walter got into bed first, followed by Alex. Fox stood, his eyes inexorably drawn to Alex's naked body as he got into bed beside Walter. Fox felt his cock begin to fill. Walter gave him a warning look. 

 

"In bed, Fox. Now." 

 

Fox quickly climbed on the other side of Walter, unaware of the green eyes that watched him as he did. Alex lay on his back, closed his eyes. Fox had such a beautiful ass, even more beautiful in motion. The way the muscles moved under the skin when he walked, the way they flexed when he bent to lift the edge of the comforter. Walter leaned up on his elbow and kissed them each on the mouth. 

 

"I love you both," he said. "Good night." 

 

Saturday was Hell. Walter had them up early and marched them downstairs, still naked. Breakfast was eaten in silence, the dreaded cane ringed round with cereal bowls and juice glasses. After breakfast came an hour of corner time. Then Alex was put to work cleaning the downstairs while Fox was sent upstairs. Walter read the newspaper, noting the dejected slump of Alex's shoulders as he ran the vaccuum cleaner, the unhappy look in Fox's eyes when he came downstairs for glass cleaner and paper towels. 

 

Lunch was sandwiches and leftover soup. After lunch, another hour of corner time, followed by cleaning and organizing the basement. Then they were back at the kitchen table to write lines until dinner. Walter stayed in the kitchen with them, sitting at the table, balancing his checkbook. The only sound in the room was the scratching of pen on paper. Walter hid his smile as he caught hazel eyes looking longingly at Alex. Right on schedule, Walter thought. His satisfaction grew as green eyes lifted to watch Fox hungrily, as twin gazes of misery and wanting met and held one another. Walter cleared his throat. They started guiltily and got back to writing, stealing the occasional look at one another. 

 

After dinner, while Walter cleaned up after their meal of broiled chicken and salad, Fox and Alex found themselves again in their corners. Alex looked over at Fox, his beautiful lover, so graceful, so precious, and felt his eyes fill with tears of shame. Fox heard Alex sniffle and looked at him, felt his own face grow hot as he remembered the hateful words he'd spat at his beautiful Alex. Alex looked down, the tears threatening to spill over his lush dark lashes. Fox blinked back tears, wishing he could hold Alex just for a moment. 

 

Alex raised his head and looked at Fox. Green eyes met hazel and each knew what the other was thinking. Alex trembled with the desire to touch Fox's soft skin, to bury his face in that thick sweet-smelling hair, to feel their hearts beating close to each other. To press against him. To murmur his love, to shout it, again and again. Fox's hands itched to reach out for Alex, to draw him into his embrace, to show him how much he loved him, how much he treasured him. To make him safe in his arms, to keep him there, to take him, and be taken by him. Fox shivered, suddenly cold. The thought of Alex leaving, really leaving, made him feel sick. He had almost driven Alex away with his temper, with his jealousy and his angry words. What would it be like, to never hold Alex close again? To never touch that smooth skin again, to never see those gorgeous eyes roll back in pleasure, to never make him make those husky, desperate sounds he made when he came? To never hear him say "I love you, Fox" again? Fox made a small sound in the back of his throat. 

 

Alex looked at Fox, the picture of abject misery. He wished he had never picked up the bottle of cologne. Deep inside, he had thought that Fox might not like him using it, at least not without asking first, but something had made him use it anyway. He knew the cologne was a special gift to Fox from Walter, and part of him, the part that still felt like an outsider, like an interloper, no matter how hard Fox and Walter tried to make him understand that he was loved, that he was there to stay, wanted to take it, wear it, be a part of it. Have the scent of Walter's love on him, too. Alex silently berated himself. Stupid! You know Walter loves you. You have bottle after bottle of cologne. You could have used any one of them and saved all this trouble. Alex looked at Fox again, apologizing with his eyes. Fox's eyes answered back, with all of his heart. Without realizing it, each took a hesitant step toward the other. 

 

The sound of Walter clearing his throat was very loud in the quiet room. Fox and Alex froze, tearing their eyes away from one another to look at Walter. 

 

"Have you boys forgotten the rules and the consequences for breaking them?" Walter asked. Alex and Fox were torn. Walter felt his heart swell as he saw them there, so beautiful, wanting one another so much. He saw them hesitate, saw them bite their lips sadly. They wanted to obey. But in their eyes he saw them weighing the price. Six strokes of the cane for a moment in each other's arms. Walter felt torn as well. He wanted nothing more than to see those forlorn eyes happy again, to see his lovers as they were meant to be, full of love and pleasure and passion. But they needed to learn. Had the lesson he had been trying so hard to teach truly gotten through? 

 

Almost as if they could read his mind, Fox and Alex broke from their reverie and rushed to him. They stood close together, as close as they dared, but still did not touch. 

 

"Please, Walter," Fox begged, his voice cracking. "No more. Please let us touch, please let us talk to each other. We've learned our lesson, we're sorry. I swear nothing like this will ever happen again." 

 

Alex sought Walter's eyes and spoke, his voice trembling. 

 

"Please," he said, wringing his hands nervously. "Please, Walter. I know it's supposed to be the whole weekend, but—" he swallowed hard, "please, we've learned. We won't fight anymore, we're sorry." 

 

Walter considered them thoughtfully. 

 

"You're really sorry?" he asked. 

 

The younger men both nodded frantically. 

 

"Yes, Walter, we are, we're really sorry," said Fox. 

 

"Really sorry," Alex echoed sincerely. 

 

Walter waited a moment, then smiled. He looked at them with all the kindness and love in his heart. 

 

"Don't you think you're telling the wrong person?" he asked. They looked at him, their expressions hopeful but unsure. He nodded at them and their shouts of happiness rang out as they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms. Fox held Alex tightly, almost as if he wanted to climb inside his skin. Alex clung to him, whispering his remorse into Fox's chestnut brown hair. 

 

"I'm sorry, Fox, I'm so sorry. I should have asked. I knew you wouldn't like it. I'm so sorry for everything." 

 

"Shhh," Fox murmured, stroking Alex's hair. "No, baby, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm the one who grabbed you, who acted like a jerk and had a temper tantrum over nothing. You're worth more than all the expensive cologne in the world." 

 

Alex made a choking sound and looked up at Fox, tear-tracks on his face. 

 

"I didn't break it on purpose, Fox, please believe me. I swear I—" 

 

"Shhh," said Fox again, kissing Alex's neck. "I know, I know you didn't. It was my fault, it was all my fault. Those...those things I said to you...God, Alex, I'm so sorry..." 

 

Fox began to cry, his sobs muffled against Alex's chest. 

 

"It's okay, Fox," Alex soothed, his voice shaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. We both said things we didn't mean. I'm sorry too, for everything. I love you, Fox." 

 

Fox raised his face, the tears shining on his cheeks. 

 

"I love you, too," he whispered. Strong arms surrounded them both. 

 

"I love you both," Walter whispered, tears standing in his kind brown eyes. "More than anything. Enough to make you see how much you need each other. How much we all need each other." 

 

Fox looked at Walter, his eyes full of remorse. 

 

"This has been awful for you too," he whispered. Walter nodded. 

 

"I'm sorry," Fox said softly. 

 

"Me too," Alex added. "We love you, Walter." 

 

"More than life," Fox whispered. 

 

They stood like that for a little while, just holding each other, no one wanting to let go. Finally, Walter took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, gave them each another long, loving bear hug. 

 

"I'm proud of you both," he said, his eyes shining. "You realize now how important you are, to each other and to me." Walter's tone changed to one full of genuine regret. He looked at his boys, and knew he would be doing them a disservice not to follow through, not to make sure they understood the consequences of their behavior. 

 

"I hope you both realize that this little exercise was not a punishment. The lines, not allowing you to touch or talk to one another, it was to get you to see how much you need one another. How much we all need each other. There is still the matter of your little scrap upstairs." 

 

Fox and Alex gulped and nodded. 

 

"You still have to be punished for fighting." 

 

Alex gulped. 

 

"Will...will we get the cane?" 

 

Walter's heart melted as he saw them both standing there, heads bowed, dreading the cane but willing to accept it if that was what he deemed fair. 

 

"No," he said softly. "No cane. Just my hand will do nicely." 

 

Walter sat down on the sofa. 

 

"Alex, you first." 

 

Alex lowered himself down over Walter's lap, resting his head on the sofa cushion. 

 

"Fox?" he said quietly. "I can't see you." 

 

Fox quickly moved into Alex's line of sight, kneeling down beside the sofa. 

 

Alex raised his head to look back at Walter. 

 

"Please, can he hold my hand?" 

 

"Of course," Walter said. He waited until Fox had Alex's hand in a firm grip. He felt Alex settle and then he began. 

 

"Alex, what is this punishment for?" 

 

"For fighting," Alex replied softly. "For fighting with Fox and for yelling and cursing at him, and for threatening to throw potting soil on him, and for using his cologne without asking." 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter said, raising his hand reluctantly. He hated to have to redden the pretty white bottom that lay across his lap but he knew it had to be done. Alex and Fox both needed closure, to feel they had been properly punished. Walter never wanted to come home to another scene like that again. Anger and resentment had been so much a part of their past. He was determined to make sure it had no place in their future. 

 

Walter brought his hand down sharply, drawing a hiss of pain from Alex. Walter spanked him steadily, making sure not to neglect the tops of his thighs, and quickly turned the entire area a vivid red. Alex was sobbing by the time the last ten spanks rained down. 

 

"I'm sorry! Ow, Walter, I'm sorry! I swear!" 

 

Walter shushed him and pulled him into his arms, motioning to Fox to come and sit beside them on the sofa. Together they held Alex, dried his tears, kissed him gently. 

 

"I'm sorry," Alex choked again. 

 

"It's all right, Alex," Walter whispered, knowing how important it was for Alex to understand he was truly forgiven. "It's all over now. Fox loves you and I love you. You've been punished and it's over." 

 

"I love you, Alex," Fox whispered. "Will you hold my hand, while Walter spanks me?" 

 

Alex nodded, rubbed away the tears. 

 

"I love you," he said again. "Love you both." 

 

Alex knelt by the sofa, holding Fox's hand, biting his lip at the sight of Walter's big hard hand poised over Fox's vulnerable bottom. 

 

"What is this spanking for, Fox?" Walter asked. 

 

Fox swallowed hard. 

 

"For f-fighting with Alex. For throwing a temper tantrum over a bottle of cologne and for grabbing him and making him drop it, and for the...the awful things I s-said..." he trailed off, his throat too tight for him to speak. Alex stroked his hair, whispered to him. Fox smiled a little and continued. "For the things I said, the hurtful and mean things I said to Alex. For cursing and yelling." 

 

Walter nodded approvingly. 

 

"All right, Fox. Alex got twenty-five but I'm giving you thirty for the things you said to Alex. That was totally out of line and I know you understand that." 

 

"Yes, sir," Fox whispered. 

 

"Let's get this over with," Walter said quietly. Fox gritted his teeth and took his spanking quietly, trying not to kick and yell. By the twentieth swat he was doing both. 

 

"OW! Ow, Walter, please! I'm sorry! I won't ever do it again! I promise!" 

 

Walter stroked Fox's hair for a moment before placing his arm back across the younger man's waist. 

 

"I know, Fox," he said. "Only ten more." 

 

Walter made the last ten count. By the time the last whack blazed across Fox's bottom, Alex and Fox were both sobbing. 

 

Walter drew them into his arms again, showering them with kisses, soft murmurings of love. 

 

"It's all right, Fox. You're forgiven. It's over and you're forgiven." 

 

Alex and Fox clung to Walter, kissed him, loved him. 

 

"I love you, Walter," Fox choked, resting his head on Walter's chest. 

 

"I love you, too," Alex said softly. "Thank you for loving us." 

 

They stayed there, just touching, no words except the occasional soft whisper, for quite some time. Then, Walter looked at his lovers fondly. 

 

"Bedtime, I think. Tomorrow you'll get dressed and clean out the garage, and finish those thousand lines." 

 

Fox pouted. 

 

"But you said the punishment was over," he said plaintively. 

 

"It is. But the garage does need cleaning out and it will do you good to complete a project together. And I did say a thousand lines and you've only done eight hundred and twenty and Alex has only done eight hundred and forty-four. So, you will finish those, and clean out the garage. But for now," he grinned and paused to nip at a ready earlobe, "let's not let all this bare skin go to waste." 

 

He chased them up the stairs. They raced ahead of him, their peals of laughter ringing off the walls, their sore bottoms the last thing on their minds. 

 

They lay in bed in a tangle of long limbs, content in the damp and rumpled sheets. 

 

"What happens after we clean out the garage tomorrow?" asked Alex hopefully. "Could we...I mean...maybe we could have that dinner out?" 

 

Walter thought for a moment. 

 

"I'd like that," he said. "But we have to do something else first." 

 

Fox and Alex groaned, obviously dreading what was coming next. What other chores would they have to do? Would there be more lines? Walter laughed. 

 

"We're going shopping for cologne. Dolce and Gabbana. I'm buying a bottle for each of you." 

 

He felt his lovers snuggle closer. Fox's sleepy voice drifted up to him from somewhere in the vicinity of Alex's thighs. 

 

"That's okay, Walter. One bottle's all we need. We can share."


	6. Christmas Trilogy VI:  Licorice Whips

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult for m/m interaction, discipline, spanking, language 

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimer: These characters have been removed from CC's care due to gross neglect and placed with me for their safety and well-being. 

Warnings: This is a discipline story. That means pretty boys get red bottoms. If you can't handle it, hit the door running. Also contains tussling, bad language and poor nutrition. 

Status: New/Series. Part of the Trilogy universe. Follows Red, Green, Gold, Rainy Days and Mondays and The Scent of Battle. 

Thanks: To the birthday girl, of course! (g) Thanks also to HollyIlex and Xcraft, for the friendship, support and hugs. 

Summary: Sugar + brats = trouble 

Dedication: For Gaby on your special day. 

Note: Twizzlers are a brand of licorice whips sold in the US. They are sort of a weird shade of red and taste vaguely like strawberries. And rubber. (g)

 

 

Licorice Whips 

by Lorelei 

 

 

"Walter, will you relax? We're fine!" Fox said with a chuckle, trying to cradle the phone between his neck and shoulder as he filled a glass with ice. He closed the freezer door and set the glass down on the counter, turning back to rummage in the refrigerator. "What's that? No, Walter, just root beer, I promise—oops!" 

 

Fox bent to pick up the phone from where it had landed in the kitchen sink, thankful that for once Alex had let the water out after he rinsed the dishes. He hastily wiped the phone on his shirt before putting it back to his ear. 

 

"Sorry, Walter, I dropped the phone. Oh, I don't know," he paused, craning his neck to see into the living room. Alex lay dozing on the sofa, his omnipresent book lying open on his chest. "He's sleeping. Yes, everything's fine, I told you," he laughed. "We're okay. Alex is grabbing his usual Saturday afternoon nap and I'm about to watch the Knicks game. How's the conference?" Fox listened intently, meanwhile popping the top on a can of root beer and pouring it over the ice in his glass. "I know, we wish you didn't have to spend the weekend away too. But when you get home, Walter," he purred lasciviously, "we'll make up for lost time." He took a sip of root beer, already half-hard just from the sound of his lover's deep alpha male voice. Even over a phone line, long distance from Chicago, that rumble seemed to go straight to Fox's cock. 

 

"Don't worry, Walter, we'll be good," he teased. "Get home as soon as you can and you'll see just how good we can be." He grinned and listened for a moment, his eyes shining. "We love you too, big guy. Come home safe to us." 

 

Fox hung up the phone and glanced at his watch, then did an ecstatic little jig, dancing over to the doorway to make sure Alex was still asleep so he couldn't remark on how silly Fox looked. Fox rubbed his hands together eagerly. Six minutes til the Knicks game came on the sports channel. The perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon, cheering on his favorite team as they played their arch-enemies in the Championship game. He went into the living room to make sure the remote was on the coffee table where he had left it the night before. Alex hated TV, so he'd never move it, except to annoy Fox. The remote was right where it was supposed to be, and Fox blew a silent kiss to his sleeping lover who lay, lips slightly parted, looking like an angel in repose. 

 

Fox went back into the kitchen to organize his supplies for the big game. Knicks hat, check. He settled it firmly on his head and gave it a little pat for good luck. Root beer. Check. Popcorn. Check. Peanuts. Check. He grinned and opened the drawer next to the refrigerator. Time for the most important thing. The thing without which no basketball game would be complete. 

 

Suddenly a shriek rent the air, shattering the peace of a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Skinner-Mulder-Krycek residence. 

 

"ALLLLLEEEEEXXXXXXX!" 

 

Alex woke with a start and sat up sleepily, rubbing his eyes. What the heck was Fox yelling about? He ran a hand through his adorably sleep-tousled hair and blinked his luminous green eyes at the twitching man in the doorway. 

 

"What, baby?" Alex asked innocently, his lush eyelashes doing another slow, langorous sweep. 

 

"Don't 'what' me, Rat!" Fox barked, advancing on him, brandishing a crumpled piece of cellophane. "You know damn well what!" 

 

Alex managed to look injured and superior at the same time, no easy trick. 

 

"Fox, what are you carrying on about? It's awfully rude to wake me from my nap, you know. I was having a great dream about—" 

 

"MY TWIZZLERS!" Fox screamed, waving the empty packet accusingly. 

 

"No," said Alex thoughtfully. "I was here, but it didn't look like here. And there was this panda, and he had wings, and he was helping all the other pandas get across this stream. Then—" 

 

"Cut the crap, Krycek," Mulder snapped. "You ate my Twizzlers! I had a whole pack! You know I can't enjoy a Knicks game without my Twizzlers, and today's the most important game of them all! How could you? It's bad enough you had to get into them without my permission but did you have to eat the entire pack? Now what am I supposed to do?!? The game's on in three minutes and I don't have my Twizzlers!" 

 

Alex put his hands on his hips, not quite as effective a gesture of indignation when one was sitting down, he had to admit, but he was too comfortable to get up. 

 

"Look, Fox, I don't think it's fair of you to accuse me without any evidence. Anything could have happened to your Twizzlers." He began to snuffle theatrically, tilting his head so that the fat tears in his big green eyes caught the light. "I...I knew you'd never believe I'd changed. I knew no matter how hard I tried, I could never live down the past." 

 

A deep hitching sigh. 

 

"I...I know I can never be good like you and Walter, Fox. But I'm trying." 

 

Fox stood silently for a moment. 

 

His eyes narrowed and he threw the empty licorice wrapper down disgustedly. 

 

"Nice try, Olivier!" he shouted, "But you can save your dimestore theatrics for someone else. Those big kewpie-doll eyes might work on Walter but they ain't gonna work on me!" 

 

With a triumphant cry, he dove for Alex, catching his lover by surprise. Alex struggled but Fox had the upper hand, using his weight and his advantageous position atop Alex's squirming body to hold him down. At last, he had his Russian candy poacher pinned and panting. 

 

"You ate my Twizzlers, you licorice-lifting Rat!" Fox yelled into Alex's face. "Admit it!" 

 

Alex struggled fruitlessly, bucking his hips up against Fox's groin just to hear the gasp that followed. Fox held him down and glared at him sternly. 

 

"Cut it out, Alex. I know you ate them! Now 'fess up!" 

 

Alex glared back. 

 

"I didn't do it! Get off me!" 

 

Fox stared at him for a moment, then his face transformed as a huge sly smile spread across it. Suddenly he grabbed Alex's head with both hands and captured his mouth in a long, slow, deep kiss. Alex shuddered and moaned, his bones seeming to melt and run together inside him as Fox's agile tongue explored the recesses of his mouth. 

 

It was several moments before Fox broke the kiss, both men gasping for air, Alex's eyes glowing and glazed with lust. 

 

Fox looked down at Alex with a smirk. He could still taste the telltale glow of strawberries on the brat's tongue. 

 

"Funny, Alex," Fox said evenly. "Your mouth tastes just like...STRAWBERRY TWIZZLERS!" 

 

"AHHHHHH!" Alex screamed as Fox yanked his hair. "Ow!" 

 

The two men tussled frantically, finally rolling off the sofa and onto the floor. They wrestled grimly, neither one able to best the other, finally falling away from one another, gasping and spent. Scowling, Fox stood up, picked up his Knicks hat from where it had landed under the coffee table, jammed it on his head and stomped upstairs, leaving Alex in a heap on the carpet. 

 

"Jerk!" Alex yelled after him, rubbing his scalp where Fox had tried to snatch him bald. 

 

"Brat!" he heard from upstairs, seconds before the door slammed. 

 

Fox watched the game upstairs in the bedroom, sans root beer, Twizzlers and Alex. 

 

Alex sat downstairs in the living room, occasionally turning a page in his book with unnecessary savagery, but not really reading a word. By the time the second page tore in his hand, he slammed the book down on the coffee table and stalked outside, determined to find something to do until dinnertime. 

 

Dinner was eaten in silence, neither man willing to abandon the dining room table to the other. Alex hunkered down at one end with a thick steak and a green salad, Fox at the other with a plate of lasagna and garlic bread. They glared at one another intermittently until Fox finished the last bite of his dinner and pointedly carried his dishes into the kitchen, washed them and disappeared upstairs again. Alex pushed the last few bites of steak around his plate dispiritedly, then cleared his own dishes. He dried the plate, missing the usual after dinner sounds, the bantering and cheerful clatter as they did the chore together. Alex blinked back tears. He missed Walter. He missed Fox. 

 

He glanced toward the staircase, remembering the superheated looks Fox had thrown his way during dinner. He went to the phone, found the blue sticky note next to it with the number of Walter's hotel on it. He dialed and waited, biting his lip. He needed to hear Walter's deep, comforting voice, as close as he could get to having those strong arms around him. 

 

"The guest whom you are trying to reach is not in. To leave a voice message, press one. To speak to the front desk, press two." 

 

Alex sighed and hung up the phone. He finished putting away his few dishes and paused, eyeing the neatly stacked bowls in the cabinet. Hmmm...a bowl of ice cream would be good right about now. He couldn't have Walter and he couldn't have Fox, but chocolate ice cream...that could be arranged. 

 

He got a bowl down and rummaged in the drawer for the ice cream scoop, the expensive one with the antifreeze in the handle, the one he had nagged Walter to let him buy from the gourmet foods catalogue. He fished out a spoon from the silverware drawer and went to the freezer, licking his lips in anticipation. He took out the new carton of premium Neapolitan ice cream, set it down on the counter and lifted the lid. 

 

He stared down into the carton. 

 

The vein in the middle of his forehead began to throb. A bead of sweat began to slowly thread its way along his hairline. 

 

Alex closed his eyes. He had bought the carton of Neapolitan ice cream the day before, tossing it casually into the freezer for future reference. He hadn't given it any more thought until just now. He opened his eyes again. There was the strawberry. There was the vanilla. 

 

The chocolate was missing. 

 

Someone had expertly tunneled their way along with infinite care, excising every last morsel of Alex's favorite flavor. 

 

The scream began somewhere in the vicinity of his ribcage, barreled up through his throat and out with every decibel the enraged Russian could muster. 

 

"FOOOOOOX!" 

 

A snicker from the doorway caused Alex to spin around angrily. 

 

Fox leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms folded nonchalantly. 

 

"Something wrong, Alex? What is it?" he asked innocently, unable to hide his smirk. 

 

"You know damn well what it is!" Alex yelled, brandishing the evidence, which was beginning to melt. Pink and white drops of melted ice cream spattered the kitchen floor. "You did this! Admit it!" 

 

"Sorry," Fox said with an infuriating grin. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

 

Alex slammed the carton of softening ice cream down on the table. 

 

"Oh yes you do, Foxy," he hissed. "I always knew you were nothing but a big baby, but this really tears it. It's bad enough that you had to throw a tantrum over a one dollar and nineteen cent pack of licorice, but to do this in retaliation? That's just pathetic!" 

 

"Told ya, it wasn't me," Fox said, running one long finger through the vanilla ice cream. Alex watched, trembling with fury, as he slowly licked the dollop of melting ice cream from his finger, swirling it about on his tongue. 

 

"Mmm," he murmured, cutting his eyes at Alex. "Now that's good. I'm not a big chocolate fan myself. A little too rich for me. How about you?" 

 

Alex's hand tightened on the handle of the ice cream scoop. 

 

"It's a good thing for you Walter's not here," he growled. 

 

Fox snorted and rolled his eyes. 

 

"Oh yeah, Ratboy? Something tells me you're gonna wish you could sit in that ice cream once I tell him what you've been up to!" 

 

Alex's eyes flashed green fire and he advanced on Fox, the ice cream scoop held out before him like a weapon. 

 

"I'm gonna make you sorry you ever touched my ice cream!" he yelled. 

 

Fox laughed and backed away. 

 

"Oh, I'm really scared, Alex. What are you gonna do, scoop me to death?" 

 

Alex grinned ferally. 

 

"You've seen me use a melon baller, right? It's the same principle, just on a larger scale." 

 

Fox's eyes narrowed. He lunged for Alex and they grappled for the scoop, which finally flew across the kitchen, ending up partly wedged under the oven. 

 

"Asshole!" Alex yelled. 

 

"Brat!" Fox retorted. 

 

"Prick!" 

 

"Dick!" 

 

"Baby!" 

 

"Prima donna!" 

 

"That's it," Alex snarled, dumping the runny ice cream into the sink. "I'm going for a walk!" 

 

He slammed the back door so hard the windows rattled. 

 

Fox harrumphed and shoved his hands in his pocket. 

 

"Rat..." he muttered. He swallowed and took a long look at the back door. He rubbed his stomach absently. He really didn't like chocolate all that much. 

 

The sun rose the next day on an all-out war. 

 

Alex wandered sleepily into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. His stomach growled as he felt around behind the canned soup and cake mix. 

 

He cursed in Russian and then in English, for good measure. 

 

The empty box which had contained his chewy chocolate chip granola bars ricocheted off the far wall and slid to rest against the back door. 

 

Fox entered the kitchen and looked around warily. No sign of Alex. He opened the refrigerator and took out the butter, then moved the large jar of mayonnaise aside. He stared into the empty space for a moment before slamming the refrigerator door and storming upstairs. Fuming, he turned on the TV full blast, hoping that somewhere in the house, Alex was trying to read. Fox flopped on the bed, angrily flipping channels. 

 

His Aunt Grace had sent him that loaf of banana nut bread. 

 

Matters escalated as the day wore on. 

 

Alex's chocolate almond biscotti: gone. 

 

Fox's can of deluxe mixed nuts: gone. 

 

Alex's secret stash of Toblerone bars: gone. 

 

Fox's box of Lucky Charms. 

 

Alex's peanut butter Captain Crunch. 

 

Fox's spicy barbecue potato chips. 

 

Alex's malted milk balls. 

 

Fox's trail mix. 

 

Alex's caramels. 

 

Fox's cheese puffs. 

 

The Godiva truffles that Alex had hidden in the empty bucket under the sink. 

 

The salsa-flavored corn chips Fox had hidden in the decorative tin on top of the refrigerator. 

 

Neither was willing to budge as their silent battle raged on. The sink soon overflowed with dirty dishes, the counter was littered with empty wrappers and packages as the two combatants enacted an unspoken boycott on cleaning. 

 

Sunday night came and still no let up. 

 

Alex's gourmet fudge-nut brownies. 

 

Fox's honey-mustard filled pretzel sticks. 

 

Chocolate-covered graham crackers. 

 

An entire jar of imported jalapeno peppers. 

 

A package of marshmallow pinwheels. 

 

A bag of buffalo wings with ranch dressing. 

 

Oreo cookies. 

 

Lime flavored tortilla chips. 

 

Cherry popsicles. 

 

Walter unlocked the back door and stepped inside. He smiled in the dark, eager to surprise his gorgeous young lovers. The conference had ended early and he'd gotten the last seat on the last flight to DC, finally pulling into the driveway just after one in the morning. He dropped his keys on the counter and felt for the light switch. 

 

He almost wished he hadn't found it. 

 

The kitchen was a disaster area. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes, likewise the kitchen table. A plastic jug sat on a kitchen chair with about an inch of congealed milk in the bottom of it. The trash can bulged with empty containers of every size and shape. Walter looked down at his keys, which were lying in a pool of something brown and sticky. 

 

Walter turned and closed the back door, making sure it was properly secured. He calmly and methodically rinsed the goo from his keys, managing to find a clean spot on the otherwise mangy teatowel. He placed his briefcase in the hall closet. Hung up his coat. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. 

 

Again. 

 

In French. 

 

Then in German. 

 

He had one hand on the bannister when he heard a pitiful groan from upstairs. 

 

He took the stairs two at a time. 

 

He rushed into the bedroom and was greeted by the sight of his two lovers lying crumpled on the bed, their bellies distended. They lay moaning softly, their dark heads close together, each occasionally raising a hand to stroke the other's hair in a gesture of comfort. 

 

"What the hell?" said Walter, scanning the room with shocked eyes. 

 

Like the kitchen, the bedroom was a shambles. The nightstand was littered with partially consumed bottles of antacid, surrounded by discarded spoons. The burnished wood surface was covered in smears and dribbles of pink and chalky white. The light was on in the en suite bathroom and Walter could see the cabinet doors standing open, their contents scattered over the floor. 

 

Walter walked over to the bed, his features creased with concern. 

 

"Fox? Alex?" he said softly. "It's me. Are you all right?" 

 

Fox looked up, his hazel eyes full of tears. He clutched half a roll of Rolaids in one trembling hand. 

 

"Ohhh Walter," he groaned, "we're sick..." 

 

At the mention of the word, Alex bolted from the bed and into the bathroom, where he was violently and loudly ill, kneeling among the scattered cotton balls and bars of soap. 

 

"Some...something we ate," Alex whispered weakly as he crawled back into bed, huddling close to Fox. 

 

Walter looked around the room again, shaking his head. He could see that he was not going to be able to get anything sensible out of them for the time being. With a sigh, he set about the task of bringing order to chaos, sponging up spills, clearing up bottles and spoons, and soothing two sickly brats. 

 

Two hours later, the house once again looked like a home. The kitchen had been cleaned up and wiped down. The dishwasher chugged away contentedly, the trash cans in the alley were full to the brim, the floor was swept. Alex and Fox lay quietly upstairs, swaddled in thick bathrobes, cool cloths on their foreheads. 

 

Walter sat in the now sparkling kitchen and opened a beer. 

 

He needed it. 

 

It hadn't taken long, between sobs and frantic trips to the bathroom, to get the whole sordid story out of his lovers. 

 

Walter got up and opened the mostly empty cabinets, still unable to believe the sheer amount of food the two had managed to consume, each determined to outdo the other. 

 

He shook his head, thinking of the two pairs of mournful eyes that had gazed up at him as he soothed and coddled. Their whimpers would have melted a heart of stone. He was almost tempted to say they had been punished enough. 

 

Almost. 

 

Monday, as it happened, was a federal holiday and all government offices were closed. Neither Walter nor Fox had to work, which gave Walter ample time to employ considerable creativity in his brats' punishment. 

 

Said brats watched warily as he signed for the box, shipped next day air from Paris. 

 

Walter placed the box on the table with a flourish and smiled brightly at Alex and Fox. Moving as one, they backed up a step, two faint gulps sounding in the sunlit room. A smile like that on Walter's face meant only one thing. 

 

Two butts were about to become very sore, very fast. 

 

They shivered as they remembered the last such box Walter had received and the matching paddles engraved with an A and an F, made of special extra-flexible Malaysian rubber. 

 

Fox craned his neck to see the label on the front of the box. 

 

"Mistress Gaby's Candy for Bad Boys," he read softly. He and Alex looked at each other, mystified. 

 

Walter opened the box and withdrew a large, flat parcel. He opened it, enjoying the awed gasps that came from the two miscreants. 

 

It was a Twizzler. 

 

A long Twizzler. 

 

About five feet long. 

 

Walter removed the plastic wrapping and hefted the licorice whip in his hand, doubling it over and snapping it experimentally. 

 

Two pert sets of buttocks clenched at the sound. 

 

Walter's smile grew wider. It was a little sticky, but it would do nicely. 

 

"Gentlemen," he said courteously, "shall we adjourn to the living room?" 

 

Alex and Fox knew what was expected of them and had no desire to make a bad situation any worse by being recalcitrant. Resigned to their fates, they quickly removed their clothes and found their corners. Except for the occasional muted sniffle, silence reigned. Walter sat on the sofa, looking at the sweet graceful curves of their bare backs, the smooth shoulders hunched in shame. Looking around to make sure neither of them could see, he surrepticiously pinched about an inch off the tip of the licorice whip and chewed it thoughtfully. 

 

He didn't know why his lovers had become so angry with one another over such a silly thing, but he was going to be damned sure they thought twice before they did it again. 

 

After twenty minutes, he called his subdued lovers over and sat them down for a talk. 

 

"Alex, Fox," he began, his voice soft and solemn, "you know I love you very much, don't you?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," two husky voices replied. 

 

Alex wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. His lip trembled. Walter saw the fear and misery in those green eyes and wanted nothing more than to hold Alex close and reassure him, but the time for that would come. He always made sure to comfort his little Rat after he'd been punished and this time would be no different. 

 

But first, he had to make sure they learned their lesson. 

 

"Boys," he said sadly, "you know that what you did this weekend was very wrong, don't you?" 

 

Two dark heads nodded. Alex looked at Walter beseechingly. 

 

"Walter?" he said haltingly. "I-I started it." A tear rolled slowly down one cheek. 

 

Walter's heart went out to his beautiful young lover, and his eyes were kind but stern as he spoke. 

 

"I know what happened, Alex. I spoke to you both separately and your stories match up. You've both been honest with me and I appreciate that. Yes, you were wrong, not to mention very inconsiderate, to eat Fox's licorice whips, especially when you knew that he had bought them to eat while he watched the Knicks game." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex whispered. 

 

"And you will be punished for that," Walter continued firmly. "But I hold you both equally responsible for what happened this weekend. I went away for two days, and in the space of that time, two grown men managed to reduce this house to rubble and make themselves sick in the process." 

 

Two sets of eyes fastened on the carpet. 

 

"Did you think for one moment about how I might feel when I came home from a business trip to find the house in a shambles and my lovers in serious gastric distress, not to mention that half the food in the house had been devoured?" 

 

Alex and Fox were silent for a moment. 

 

"No, Walter," Fox said quietly. "We didn't think. We're sorry." 

 

Walter nodded sadly. 

 

"I know you are, Fox," he said, rolling up his sleeves, "but unfortunately that doesn't change anything. Your behavior this weekend was absolutely unacceptable. Not only did you two allow a petty matter to escalate into an all-out war, you exhibited a complete disregard for my feelings as well as each other's. You made a huge mess. You shoveled tremendous amounts of junk food down your throats with no thought for your own health and well-being. All you cared about was revenge." 

 

He sat down on the coffee table, his hands on his knees, and looked at his penitent brats seriously. He waited until they raised their teary eyes to look at him. 

 

"Do you understand that nothing—NOTHING—is worth fighting one another over? That something trivial and inconsequential can fester and grow until it drives a wedge between you? Yes, Alex, your action did precipitate this fight you two had. But Fox, you were equally wrong in the way you chose to handle it. You could have handled it like a mature adult, but instead you chose to retaliate, which led to a battle of wills neither of you could hope to win." 

 

Alex and Fox swallowed hard. 

 

"I'm going to have to punish you both, I know you know that. We've all worked too hard, fought too long, for the chance, the privilege to be together. I'm not going to let something silly like a packet of candy do what Spender, the Consortium and the alien colonists couldn't. I love you both. We all love each other. Nothing is more important than that. And if I have to spank you every night of your lives, you are going to learn to place that love before anything and everything else. Is that understood?" 

 

There was only one possible answer. 

 

"Yes, sir," his brats whispered. 

 

"All right," Walter said quietly. "Let's get this over with. Over the back of the couch, please, both of you." 

 

Alex and Fox rose and went to the back of the couch, bending over gracefully, their bare bottoms high in the air. Alex felt his legs trembling and held onto the nearest cushion for comfort. He looked at Fox miserably. 

 

"I'm sorry, Fox," he whispered softly. 

 

Fox blinked back tears. 

 

"Me too," he whispered back. "I'm sorry, Alex." 

 

Walter heard this exchange and felt tears fill his own eyes. He smiled a little as he gave a gentle caress to the two bottoms he was about to punish. 

 

"There are so many things I'd love to be doing to these two gorgeous bottoms right now," he said sadly. "I counted the minutes until I could get home to you. I hope you think long and hard about what this punishment is for, and how we could have spent our day off." 

 

Subdued snuffling sounded from the vicinity of the sofa cushions. 

 

Walter lifted the licorice whip. It was lighter than a conventional whip, of course, but the licorice strands were tightly wrapped and he felt confident that it would get the point across. 

 

"Alex," Walter said, "since you admit to starting this fiasco by eating Fox's Twizzlers, I'm going to start with you. You get twenty strokes, and you will count them. Is that understood?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex answered miserably. 

 

"Fox," Walter continued, "you will remain bent over beside Alex while he takes his punishment. I want you to think about what you could have done differently before this thing got out of control. I want you to listen to Alex as he's being punished and to think about the importance of resolving conflicts maturely and responsibly." 

 

"Y-yes, sir," Fox mumbled, his hand covering Alex's and holding it tight. Alex smiled at Fox gratefully. 

 

"Love you," he whispered. 

 

"Love you too," Fox whispered back. 

 

Walter folded the licorice whip over and raised it over Alex's hapless backside. He brought it down with a loud snap. 

 

"OWWW!" Alex yelped, his eyes round with disbelief. "That...that's candy? It really hurts!" 

 

"It's supposed to hurt, Alex," Walter replied patiently. "What are you supposed to do?" 

 

"One," Alex gulped, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in anticipation of the next stroke. 

 

Walter laid the licorice whip across Alex's butt again, leaving a thin red line across the pale white globes. 

 

"Ow!" Alex yelped again. "T-two." He clutched the sofa cushion, his knuckles white, fighting the urge to reach back and rub the sting away. 

 

The spanking continued, Walter laying them down quickly and evenly, Alex gasping out the appropriate numbers in between sobs. 

 

"What is this punishment for, Alex?" Walter demanded, thwapping the Twizzler across Alex's sit spot. 

 

"Ow...n-nine," Alex sobbed. "F-for eating Fox's candy without his permission and for being childish and petty, and for fighting with him and for n-not being considerate and responsible." 

 

"That's right," Walter said soothingly. 

 

"And for not being m-mature..." Alex continued, crying steadily. 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter said, rubbing Alex's bare back. "I know you know that you were wrong. I'm proud of you for owning up, love. There was a time when you would have tried to hide what you'd done. You've come a long way, Alex, and we're both proud of you." 

 

"Yes," whispered Fox, his head close to Alex's. 

 

Alex sniffled and managed a smile, his eyes shining. 

 

"Let's get finished up, okay, Alex?" Walter asked. 

 

"Y-yes, sir," Alex answered, his voice a little more steady. 

 

Walter got the rest of the punishment over as quickly as he could, Alex counting the strokes in as clear a voice as he could manage between sobs. 

 

At last it was over. The end of the giant Twizzler had softened with the heat of Walter's hand and bore the imprints of his fingers. He pried it out of his hand and placed it on the coffee table to await Fox's punishment. 

 

He gathered the sobbing Alex into his arms and stroked the sable hair, letting his Rat cry. 

 

"I love you, Alex," Walter murmured. "We love you. The spanking is over and you did well, you owned up and took your punishment, and all is forgiven." 

 

Alex clung to Walter and cried, thanking him through his tears. 

 

A few minutes later, Alex was bent over the sofa again. He reached for Fox's hand and pressed it to his lips, then held it tightly. Fox smiled, his eyes shining with love and gratitude. 

 

Then Fox's punishment began. 

 

"What is this punishment for, Fox?" Walter asked as he snapped the licorice whip down for the first time. 

 

"OW!" Fox yelled. He tried to compose himself enough to answer. "One," he gulped. "I...I lost my temper when I found Alex had eaten my candy. I was childish and immature and I retaliated against him and made it worse instead of handling it like an adult." 

 

Walter brought the Twizzler down again. 

 

"And what should you have done?" 

 

"T-two!" Fox wailed. "I...I should have just let it go! I should have waited til you came back so we could all talk about it! I should have thought before I acted!" 

 

"That's right, Fox," Walter said quietly. "That's what you should have done and I know that the next time there's a problem, that's what you will do. I'm proud of you for admitting you were wrong, Fox, and for taking your punishment." 

 

"Th-thank you, Walter....OW! Th-three!" 

 

Walter spanked Fox as thoroughly as he had Alex, and by the time it was over, Fox's bottom was bright red and throbbing. 

 

Walter dropped the Twizzler, which was looking decidedly worse for wear, into the trash can and took Fox into his arms. 

 

"That's it," he murmured, stroking Fox's soft hair, "let it out." 

 

And Fox did. He buried his face in Walter's chest and bawled, the soft soothing words Walter whispered in his ear easing his pain. 

 

Alex straightened up and, at Walter's wordless gesture, snuggled into Walter's arms alongside Fox. Walter held them both close, drying their tears with soft kisses. He touched Alex's cheek gently. Alex took Walter's finger into his mouth, sucking at the sweetness there. Fox nibbled along Walter's jawline, taking the soft earlobe between his teeth. Walter groaned and carefully ran his hands along two flaming hot bottoms, soothing the superheated flesh. 

 

"Upstairs," Walter managed to gasp. "I'm going to tie you both to the bed and ravish you." 

 

"But Walter," said Fox, still nibbling and suckling Walter's earlobe, "you said we couldn't use our neckties anymore. And we lost the handcuff keys." 

 

"That's all right," Walter said with a smile, holding up a packet of Twizzlers. "I think I can improvise." 

 

The End 

 

For Gaby on her 28th birthday. 

 

Much love.


	7. Christmas Trilogy VII:  Late

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek

Rating: Adult for m/m interaction, spanking, discipline, language, sexy stuff 

Spoilers: Please assume all Krycek eps

Disclaimer: Does it matter anymore? 

Warning: This is a domestic discipline story, containing spanking and other forms of punishment. Some scenes are explicit. If this is not your thing, turn back. Please do not ignore the warnings, read the story, and then write to me and complain about it. I don't want to hear it. 

Status: New/Series. Takes place in the "Christmas Trilogy" universe and follows "Red", "Green", "Gold", "Rainy Days and Mondays", "The Scent of Battle" and "Licorice Whips." 

Thanks: A girl can't have too many mentors and I'm very lucky to have two of the best there are. Thanks to HollyIlex for wise and insightful beta, for catching my mistakes and for always asking the questions that lead me to answers I hadn't thought of. Thanks to Josan, the best Maman anyone could ever ask for, for additional beta, keen observations, sly humor and for always teaching me. Thanks also to the ST gang and to Elizabeth for patience and encouragement. 

Summary: Angst alert! Alex, Walter and Fox face their biggest crisis yet when Alex lets his fears take him from those who love him most.

Author's Note: Krycek has two arms. Further notes follow the story.

Dedication: To Ursula, a heartfelt and very belated birthday present. Happy Birthday, Ursula. This is for you.

 

 

Late 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Alex walked into the empty holding cell, glad at least for solitude. The older cop with the kind eyes had taken one look at him and steered him away from the crowded main holding cell, the occupants of which were already beginning to hoot and catcall, eager to spend some quality time with the new arrival. 

 

"I don't need to break up any more fights in there tonight," the cop said quietly, his keys jingling as he locked the cell door behind Alex. "We usually use this cell for juvenile offenders. As long as we don't get any kids in here tonight, you can stay here." 

 

Alex nodded, standing uncertainly in the middle of the small, barren cell. He looked down, embarrassed. He knew what he looked like. A pretty boy who liked it rough and had gotten a good beating for his trouble. He clenched and unclenched his fists, listening to the angry shouts of the men in the holding cell down the hall, bitterly disappointed at the loss of their night's sport. 

 

"Knock it off in there!" the cop shouted, banging his nightstick against the bars. Grumbling and grousing, the men slowly quieted, but not before Alex heard a few of them expressing in explicit terms exactly what they'd planned to do to him. 

 

Alex closed his eyes. He was a pretty boy all right. Even under the blood and grime, he was still an attractive piece of meat. It was all he'd ever been. All of his life he'd been told how beautiful he was. Being beautiful had made him Spender's pet assassin. Being beautiful had made it easier to kill, his victims projecting all sorts of good and innocent qualities onto him, right up until the moment he pressed the muzzle of his gun against the backs of their heads. Being beautiful had landed him here, in this cell. Being beautiful had... 

 

Being beautiful had brought him Walter and Fox. 

 

Alex swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly burning. Walter and Fox had called him beautiful. But they didn't say it like everyone else always had. They said it like they were looking inside him, truly seeing him. Like he, Alex, was truly beautiful, not just the sum of his parts. 

 

Stop it, Alex admonished himself. Don't think about that. 

 

The cop returned to Alex's cell, looking him over through the bars, taking in the bruises, the split lip, the dried blood on his jaw. 

 

"You don't look so good, buddy. You need me to get somebody down here with a first aid kit?" 

 

Alex shook his head. The cop started to walk away, then paused. 

 

"You get a phone call, you know. Anyone you want to call?" 

 

Alex sank down wearily on the metal cot, the thin mattress offering little comfort to his sore body. He raked a hand through his tangled dark hair. 

 

"No. No one," he whispered. 

 

He listened to the sound of the cop's footsteps as they faded away, then drew his knees up, huddling into himself. He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. 

 

Welcome home, Alex, he thought. This is where you belong. 

 

A muffled sob escaped him as he thought of the place he had called home for the past two years, of Walter and Fox, of the big bed they shared, waking up together in a cozy tangle of arms and legs, their skin so warm against his. 

 

Thought of Walter's booming laugh, Fox's sardonic chuckle. Alex had loved to make them laugh. Thought of the night just last week, the three of them curled up by the fire, content and sleepy after the huge meal Walter had prepared. Alex had lain propped against Walter's chest, Walter's arm snaked around his waist, his deep baritone voice vibrating through Alex gently as he told them stories about growing up on his father's farm. Alex's eyelids had begun to close even as he fought to stay awake, his hand carding lazily through Fox's soft chestnut hair, feeling Fox shift slightly, his head pillowed on Alex's lap. Walter had stopped talking at one point, thinking his lovers were asleep, when he was nudged sleepily by Alex to continue. Alex loved to hear Walter talk, it didn't matter about what. 

 

They had slept there, in front of the fire, waking the next day to stiff necks and sore joints. A long soak in the hot tub and massages all around had solved that problem. 

 

Alex remembered lying naked on his stomach, groaning with pleasure as Walter's expert hands worked the scented oil deep into his aching muscles. 

 

"If I didn't know any better, boy, I'd swear you planned for us to fall asleep downstairs," Walter had mock-growled, turning his attention to Alex's ass, his fingers kneading, stroking, slipping lower, parting his cheeks gently. One finger, coated with the sweet almond oil, slipping inside him, pushing deeper...deeper still...finding that sensitive spot deep within him, making him gasp and arch off the bed. 

 

Flipping Alex over onto his back, Walter had quickly replaced his finger with something larger, taking Alex, pumping deep inside him. Alex's fingers, slick with oil, had sought Fox's cock as Fox bent over him, tonguing his nipples, coaxing gasps and moans from Alex with deft little nibbles, pausing occasionally to bite and lick his way up Alex's collarbone. Alex had caught Fox's face between his hands and brought it up for a kiss, their tongues lapping at one another, sweet and hot. 

 

No! 

 

Alex shook his head, scrubbed a hand across his face. Forced himself to open his eyes. He looked around at the cell, at the stainless steel sink/toilet bolted in one corner, at the cinderblock walls covered with graffiti. He leaned back against the bars. That's over now. You're just making it worse. This is your world now. 

 

He closed his eyes again. He hurt all over. He was so tired. 

 

Congratulations, Alex. Life finally hands you a break, you find more happiness than you or anyone else would ever believe you deserve, and you manage to fuck it up. 

 

He dropped his head down, sighing softly. Allowed himself to think once more of the big bed he'd woken up in just that morning, that he'd fallen asleep in the night before, his head on Fox's chest, Walter spooned up behind him. The warmest and safest place in the world. 

 

A place he'd never be again. 

 

The lump in his throat was painful. He swallowed around it, pulled the thin blanket around him, tried to sleep. The cop had told him he would be arraigned in the morning, but he wasn't worried. 

 

It didn't matter what happened to him now. 

 

 

Four hours earlier... 

 

"Fuck!" Alex swore, pounding the steering wheel for good measure. 

 

What was the last thing Walter had said to him before he left the house? 

 

"Try not to be late, Alex." 

 

Shit. 

 

He was more than late. 

 

He was supposed to be at the restaurant at seven. It was now quarter to eight and he was still at least fifteen minutes from Georgetown. 

 

He hadn't meant to be late. He'd allowed plenty of time, assuring Walter that he could easily make the trip to Richmond, pick up the part for his laptop, and get back to D.C. with time to spare. He hadn't counted on having to wait almost an hour at the store. He hadn't counted on the traffic. And he certainly hadn't counted on the oil light coming on just outside Alexandria, necessitating a stop at the nearest gas station. 

 

Damn. He should have left earlier. He should have. Walter was definitely going to have something to say about that, as well as Alex not having checked the oil in the Jeep before undertaking a long drive. 

 

Fuck. His ass was toast, without a doubt. Alex gripped the wheel tightly, trying not to panic. He'd never had to deal with this before Walter and Fox. Being accountable. Being responsible. Accepting consequences. He'd fucked up and Walter would definitely punish him for it. Alex forced himself to take a deep breath. His fight or flight instincts were running high and he needed to step back from the situation and think. Yes, he admonished himself, he will punish you. But you earned it. You're lucky to have what you have, Alex Krycek. Before Walter and Fox there was nothing. Now you have not one but two men who love you. And after the lecture, after the spanking, he'll hold you and tell you you're forgiven. He'll tell you he loves you. 

 

Walter said it every time. Alex knew it was true, knew that was why Walter wanted so badly for Alex to learn the lessons he was trying to teach. 

 

Alex tried to concentrate on that as he deftly changed lanes, not bothering to signal. He ignored the horn blaring behind him and sped up, his eyes scanning the roadside signs intently, looking for his exit. 

 

He glanced into the rearview mirror and groaned at the sight of his tousled hair. He looked down at his leather jacket and faded jeans and then at the clock on the dashboard. 

 

7:51. 

 

"Shit..." he muttered, trying to smooth his hair with one hand whilst merging onto the exit ramp. There went his plan of stopping by the house for a quick shower and a change of clothes before heading to the restaurant. He was late enough as it was. He could only hope the place wasn't as snooty as its name implied. Besides, he thought hopefully, weren't Fox and Walter always telling him to be himself? That he was just fine the way he was? That they would never try to make him into something he wasn't? 

 

He snorted in irritation as a slow-moving minivan blocked his path. He swung smoothly around it and accelerated, trying to make up the few precious minutes he could. He didn't dare go more than ten miles over the limit, though. The last thing he needed was a speeding ticket on top of everything else. He wanted to sit down again sometime this year. 

 

He chewed his lip as he drove, deep in thought. He hadn't even wanted to go to the damned dinner. What did he have in common with two upper-class Brits? They were Fox's friends, not his. 

 

"Come on, Alex," Walter had said with a smile. "It means a lot to Fox. He really wants us to meet Terrance. And I think it would do you good to meet some new people, socialize a bit more." 

 

"I socialize," Alex had protested around a mouthful of cheese and crackers. Walter had folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. 

 

"Melvin Frohike's annual Fourth of July blowout does not count," he'd said, not unkindly. "I mean it'll do you good to meet some new people. I think you'll have a good time if you just relax and be yourself." 

 

Walter had taken Alex into his arms and kissed him soundly. 

 

"Fox wants us to meet his friend because he wants to show us off, Rat," he said with a laugh. "He's proud of us." He leaned forward. "I think," he said conspiratorially, "that he wants to make him jealous." 

 

Alex had laughed, unable to resist the twinkle in Walter's brown eyes, but still felt a sense of unease even as he agreed to attend. 

 

Fox had been excited ever since he'd gotten the call from Terrance letting him know he and Ian would be passing through D.C. He'd talked of practically nothing else for the entire week. He'd helped Alex choose just the right suit for the occasion. 

 

The suit which was now several miles away at home, in the master bedroom, laid neatly out on the foot of the bed. 

 

Alex remembered Fox chattering, well, as close as Fox ever came to chattering, about his old days at Oxford and how much he was looking forward to the dinner. 

 

"You'll like him, Alex," he'd said, rummaging through Alex's ties and emerging with a handful of jade green silk. "Terrance is smart and funny, too. He's got that whole dry British wit thing going on. I've never met his partner, Ian, but Terrance goes on and on about him. You'll have a good time." 

 

Alex had nodded and smiled, but he hadn't been so sure. 

 

It was just after eight when Alex pulled into the parking lot of La Basque. He cut the engine and sat there for a moment, trying to collect himself. 

 

Over an hour late. Fuck! Fox was going to be furious. And Walter... 

 

Alex gulped. He knew what Walter would do. 

 

There would be a long talk about responsibility, punctuality and keeping one's cellphone properly charged at all times. Walter would then make sure the more salient points of the talk were remembered by shifting his focus from Alex's ears to a point farther south. 

 

Alex looked guiltily at the cellphone on the passenger seat next to him. He'd meant to charge it. He really had. He'd just forgotten. He hadn't realized it was dead until he'd flipped it open to call Walter and let him know he'd be late. 

 

Alex sighed. Better get it over with before they came out and found him sitting there in the parking lot. 

 

La Basque, to Alex's dismay, was one of Georgetown's most tony eateries. Well-coiffed patrons dined on fine china placed on cream-colored linen tablecloths. Poised, well-trained staff moved gracefully about bearing trays of beautifully prepared foods and fine wines. The tastefully muted lighting allowed the candles burning on every table to suffuse the room with a golden glow, reflected in the delicate crystal goblets from which the guests drank. 

 

The maitre'd looked Alex up and down with a horrified expression, as though he expected Alex to pull out a Saturday night special and rob the place. Alex ignored him and strode into the dining room, trying to affect an air of confidence. It was bad enough that he was late and dressed in jeans and boots, he didn't want to further the bad impression by approaching the table like a man walking to his execution. 

 

Alex stood beside the table. 

 

"I'm sorry I'm so late," he said sheepishly. "Where's Walter?" 

 

He felt his stomach drop to his boots as Fox looked up, his expression one of cold fury. 

 

"He's in the bar, trying to call your cellphone. Where the hell have you been?" 

 

Alex gripped the back of the chair in front of him but didn't dare sit. He didn't think he'd ever seen Fox look so angry before, not since...not since they'd begun to live their lives together. Alex stole a look at the two slender men sitting across the table from Fox. Terrance and Ian, he presumed. They were both tweedy, bespectacled types with pale blond hair. The smaller one stared at Alex with raised eyebrows, a definite smirk playing about the corner of his mouth. 

 

Alex looked down, truly ashamed for embarrassing Fox in front of his friends. 

 

"I...I'm sorry, Fox. And I apologize to you gentlemen as well," he added, knowing Walter would want him to say it. Terrance and Ian sipped their drinks and smiled in their superior way. Alex felt a hot flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. "I didn't mean to be late. The Jeep—" 

 

Fox cut him off cold, his tone biting. His eyes raked over Alex's disreputable appearance with obvious disgust. 

 

"Civilized people know how to use a telephone, Alex." 

 

The smaller of the Brits—Terrance, Ian, who the fuck could tell—began to chuckle, sliding his glasses down his nose to take a better look at Alex. Alex fumed under the blatant appraisal, but said nothing. The Brit laughed and nudged Fox. 

 

"Well, old boy, looks to me like this one isn't quite tamed yet." 

 

With that, he fell about laughing, oblivious to the disapproving look his partner was giving him. Alex felt the rage building as the Brit snickered at him, his eyes mocking and haughty. 

 

Tamed. 

 

Like an animal. 

 

Like a half-wild thing that needed to be leashed and broken, trained to the bit. 

 

That's what he looked like to them. 

 

The Brit stopped laughing when Alex grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up out of his chair. 

 

"Jesus, Alex, stop it!" Fox hissed, standing up and tugging at Alex's arm. "Let him go!" 

 

The Brit emitted an undignified squawk as Alex shook him soundly. Beads of sweat began to stand out on the man's forehead as he saw Alex's other hand curl into a fist. 

 

Alex had never wanted to hit anyone so badly in his life. The man who twisted fruitlessly in his grip represented everything he wasn't, had everything Alex had never had. Money. A good family. A good education. It was he who belonged in Fox's world, not Alex. He was more intelligent. More sophisticated. More...everything. 

 

Alex trembled with anger, ignoring Fox's urgent pleas to let the man go. He raised his fist, wanting to obliterate that mocking smirk for good. To show them he wasn't some thing to be judged and ridiculed. 

 

The Brit moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, babbling helplessly. 

 

Alex gave into the rage and swung with everything he had. 

 

His fist met flesh with a resounding whack. But there was no blood, no bones crunching under the force of the blow. There was only solid warmth, resistance. Alex looked up in surprise, feeling Walter's fingers curl around his fist and hold it, gently but firmly. 

 

"Alex," Walter said calmly. "Let him go. Now." 

 

Alex looked at Walter for a long moment and then obeyed. The Brit scuttled back to his chair on shaking legs. 

 

"Walter?" Alex whispered, dazed by what he had almost done. 

 

Fox looked at him in disgust, then turned to his friend, attempting to calm the terrified man. Terrance and Ian were both looking at Alex as though he were a rabid dog who could attack again any minute. 

 

Alex looked helplessly at Walter, then realized that all activity in the restaurant had stopped. Everyone in the dining room was staring at him in abject horror. The patrons gaped at him, their eyes wide, their mouths moving as they whispered to one another in alarm. 

 

Alex heard nothing except the pounding of his own heart. He looked at Fox again, at the angry set of his jaw as he pointedly ignored Alex, leaning across the Brit as though to shield him from further attack. The other Brit looked at Alex, his lip curled in disgust, as though Fox had promised to show them his pet Rottweiler, only to have it turn on them and try to bite them. 

 

Alex felt their eyes on him, all of them. He looked down at himself, at his beloved, battered leather jacket, his old jeans, his shitkicker boots. He knew what he looked like. He looked like what he was, what he had always been. Something that all the domestication in the world couldn't change. 

 

A thug. 

 

A criminal. 

 

A killer. 

 

Alex bolted from the restaurant, nearly knocking over a waiter who made the mistake of getting in his way. He heard Walter shouting after him as he jumped into the Jeep, slammed the door and jammed the key into the ignition. He left rubber on the pavement as he peeled out, the pedal mashed to the floor. He bit his lip as he drove, unconsciously rocking back and forth in the seat, cursing himself under his breath all the while. 

 

Fucking idiot, Alex, you blew it, you blew it, you fucked it all up, it's over, it's over... 

 

He drove as fast as he could, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the disaster he'd created as he could. Fuck the speeding ticket. Who'd care now? He didn't think about where he was going. He just tried to block out the memory of what he'd done, what he'd lost. Images bombarded him, unstoppable. The kitchen at home—not your home now, he reminded himself cruelly—the warm, sunlit room they all seemed to gravitate to, Walter with his coffee, Fox taking his turn at the dishes, slinging water everywhere. The two of them turning and smiling as Alex came in, drawing him close, Fox's wet hands on his waist, Walter's strong arms surrounding them both. 

 

The three of them in bed. Walter, his brown eyes so warm. So gentle for such a big man, stroking Alex's hair, keeping the nightmares away. Fox, spooned up behind Alex, comforting him, whispering his love. 

 

Christmas morning, a roomful of presents, Walter and Fox laughing, their voices ringing in his ears as they pulled him into bed, ravishing him, making him theirs all over again. 

 

Walter's voice, stern but loving, trying to teach and guide, never wavering in his belief that an ex-assassin could truly change, could truly begin life over again if only he was loved enough. His hands, hard when he punished Alex, his own eyes shining with tears. So soft when they soothed and comforted him. The circle Walter's arms made around him, a place all his own, safe and warm and forgiving. 

 

A rough sob escaped Alex and he scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand. 

 

Gone, gone, all gone. You fucked up, Ratboy. You threw it all away. 

 

He turned onto a dimly lit street in downtown Washington, driving mechanically, his eyes fixed blankly on the road ahead. Gravitating instinctively to the world he'd left behind. He willed the memories away, tried to make his mind blank. 

 

White noise. 

 

Don't think about them now. 

 

 

He was a little surprised that the bar was still there. He felt almost pathetically glad to see it. He needed something familiar, someplace he belonged. This place, a sinister-looking hole in the wall in the old Russian neighborhood, sandwiched between a massage parlor and a pawn shop, was the closest thing he had to that now. He parked the Jeep in the alley behind the dilapidated brick building, unsurprised that he'd ended up here. He had been a frequent visitor in the bad old days when he was still in the Consortium, sitting in the shadows, his back to the wall, drinking away the memory of the day's horrors. He'd spent more than one Christmas Day here, glad for the absence of gold tinsel and false cheer. 

 

But that had been before. 

 

Before Walter and Fox. 

 

He swallowed hard, pausing as he reached for the door handle, his own reflection staring back at him from the window, painted black from the inside. His relief was rapidly being eroded by a nagging feeling of guilt. 

 

Not supposed to be here 

 

This was a place from his old life, from the time before, with a rough reputation and an even rougher clientele. This was the past. He suppressed the almost automatic urge to look over his shoulder, his backside tingling irritatingly as it always did when he was about to do something Wrong. He allowed himself a small, sad chuckle as he opened the door. There was no Wrong anymore. No consequences, no punishment, no love. 

 

He was alone. 

 

The bar was just as he remembered it. This was not one of those quintessentially American "bars", with their generic lighted signs, exposed brick and brass. There were no potted plants, no whimiscal coasters, no conversations about sports and women. This place existed in the shadows, as did its patrons. This was not a place for casual conversation. Alex felt slightly nervous and instinctively felt behind him for the Glock he carried in the small of his back. He paused imperceptibly and cursed under his breath. Had carried. He hadn't worn the holster in nearly two years. Walter forbade weapons, it was...had been one of his most unshakeable rules. 

 

Fuck. 

 

He took a look around at the mostly empty room, glad it was still early and there were only a few men scattered amongst the scarred tables and chairs. One man sat hunched at the bar, obviously more interested in his drink than in the newcomer standing in the doorway. Alex approached the bar, glad to see that the bartender was one he remembered. A taciturn man who had always remembered Alex's favorite drink, who didn't try to make conversation when it wasn't wanted, who seemed to understand when the quiet young man in the black leather jacket needed to be left alone. 

 

"Pavel," Alex said quietly. 

 

The bartender looked at him, surprise flickering quickly over his stoic features. Alex wondered how genuine the surprise was. Pavel would have seen him come in, would have watched his every move from the moment he opened the door. 

 

"Long time," Pavel said simply in his heavily accented English. 

 

Alex nodded, choosing a seat at the end of the bar so that he could sit with his back to the wall. He had a clear view of the door and relaxed slightly. 

 

"Do you still keep a supply?" Alex asked, gesturing toward the bar. 

 

Pavel favored him with a rare smile, exposing his crooked teeth. 

 

"Da," he said, reaching down under the bar and holding up a bottle. "Always I remember you ask for this. I still keep a bottle or two." 

 

"How did you know I'd be back?" 

 

Pavel stared at Alex for a long moment, his craggy face solemn. 

 

"Always you come back," he said finally. 

 

Alex watched as Pavel poured the dark liquid into a glass and pushed it to him, then walked away to the other end of the bar and began stacking glasses. Alex was grateful for the solitude. He held the glass in his hands, warming the inky black liquor, inhaling deeply of the familiar aroma. The first sip burned all the way down, warming him. Ussuriyskiy balzam was all but impossible to get in the States, but Pavel had always kept a bottle around for him. Alex drained the glass and poured another, nodding his thanks at Pavel for leaving the bottle. He looked down, swirling the balzam in the glass as he warmed it, smiling ruefully. 

 

"I'm not drinking, I'm healing myself." 

 

He whispered the old Russian saying, the taste of berries and herbs on his tongue, reminding him of a cafe on a narrow street in Vladivostok, the old men bickering over games of cards, rain spattering the leaded glass windows. He raised the glass again, savoring the heat spreading in his gut. It had been a long time since he had tasted balzam, but he hadn't forgotten the healing powers of 90 proof alcohol. They didn't call it Siberian Prozac for nothing. 

 

Always you come back 

 

Pavel's words rang in Alex's ears. He closed his eyes, pushing away the thoughts of Fox and Walter that threatened to crowd in. Pavel was right, after all, and so were Fox's fancy friends. It was inevitable, of course. He'd tried to change, tried to learn, but as with any wild animal, domestication was temporary at best. He'd been a fool to think he belonged there in that house, with those two extraordinary men, to think that he could learn to be like them, to be good, to be loved. 

 

He tried to chase away the maudlin thoughts with another glass of balzam, his hand shaking a little as he poured, making the bottle clink against the glass. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbed his tired eyes. What would he do now? Where would he go? He kept one eye on the door, having already given the other patrons the once over. He just had to hope none of Spender's men who might remember him decided to step in for a cold one. He allowed himself one more thought of the life he'd loved, but which had never really been his. One more memory of warm brown eyes, of strong arms. Of hazel eyes lit from within, of long legs wrapped around him. He gritted his teeth against the pain, remembering something one of his foster mothers had liked to say when he'd done something she didn't like, which was pretty much everything. 

 

"Water seeks its own level," she'd say, eyeing him with disdain. 

 

Maybe she was right after all, because here he was, right back where he'd started. He'd been a liar, a killer, a thief and a spy as long as he could remember. The last couple of years had been a beautiful dream but a dream all the same. He felt himself shutting down, becoming numb. All he wanted now was to be left alone. 

 

He was on his fourth glass of balzam when even that was taken from him. 

 

Alex was reaching for the bottle when a hand dropped heavily onto his shoulder. He looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing, his assassin's instincts roaring to life through the alcoholic fog. It was too late. They were already crowding close. He cursed himself inwardly for having let himself get so soft, so slow. Three years of regular meals, hot showers and contentment had made him complacent. He'd lost his edge. There was a time when no one could have gotten close enough to spit on him, let alone touch him. 

 

Alex looked down at the hand on his shoulder, then back up at its owner, a tall, wiry man with a greasy blond ponytail. 

 

"You want to keep that?" 

 

The man's grin did nothing to help his looks. He held up his hands in a gesture of mock conciliation. 

 

"Whoa there, pretty boy," he sneered, winking at his companion, a shorter, heavier man with a dark beard. "We just wanted to say hello." 

 

Alex snorted and went back to his drink. 

 

"You said it. Now get the fuck out of here." 

 

The blond leaned close, his breath hot on Alex's ear, his rank body odor settling around them like a cloud. 

 

"Aw, come on now, pretty boy. Don't be like that." 

 

He glanced at the bottle sitting on the bar. He leaned a little closer, his mouth almost touching Alex's ear. 

 

"Does your Daddy know you're drinking the hard stuff, sweet thing?" 

 

Alex stood up quickly, kicking the barstool out of his way. His eyes spat fire. 

 

"I said get the fuck out of here, asshole. And take your fat friend with you." 

 

The shorter man's face darkened with anger. He mumbled something under his breath only to be waved silent by the blond. The blond stepped closer to Alex, holding his hands up again placatingly. He wore a hideous mockery of a smile. 

 

"Don't worry, pretty boy. We won't hurt you. Not unless you want us to." 

 

The syrupy, condescending tone of his voice made Alex want to throttle him. And if the son of a bitch got any closer, he would. 

 

"Look," Alex snapped, growling menacingly. "For the last time, get the fuck out of here. Now. Jerk each other off or scrape your pennies together and buy a whore. Touch me again and I'll rip your fucking hand off and feed it to you." 

 

He glanced behind him, but Pavel had disappeared. Shit! He bared his teeth as the blond, obviously slow to grasp new concepts, moved closer still. 

 

"Hey, come on, man," he said, in a crude attempt to charm Alex. "Shit, we didn't mean nothin'. Let us buy you a drink." 

 

Alex stared at him in disbelief. His eyes glittered with rage. 

 

"Fuck you," he spat. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Do I look like a hustler to you? What the fuck makes you think you can put your hands on me?" 

 

He stepped closer to the blond, getting into his personal space. 

 

"The smartest thing you can do," he hissed, "is walk out that door. Now. Or so help me, I'll tear your fucking throat out." 

 

The blond regarded him for a long moment. Slowly, he moved forward, nearly touching Alex, clearly taking up the challenge. 

 

"Oh, you're not fooling me, little boy," he sneered, his thick lips parting to reveal brown teeth. "I've been watching you ever since you came in. Pretty boy in black leather...fucking tease. Yeah, I know exactly what you need. Same thing they all need. And I'm just the man to give it to you." He leered at Alex, his grimy hand caressing the bulge in his jeans. 

 

Suddenly, he shot a hand out and grabbed Alex by the back of the neck. His mouth was wet against Alex's ear. 

 

"Gonna fuck you so hard, pretty boy..." 

 

Alex snarled and drove his fist into the man's solar plexus, following it up with a kick as the man gasped and bent double. Alex's boot connected with the blond's face with a sickening crack and the man went down, blood streaming from his nose. Suddenly Alex was grabbed from behind in an iron grip, the stocky man's arms locked around him. Alex struggled fiercely but what he had mistaken for fat seemed instead to be solid muscle. Alex was unable to raise his arms to break the man's grip so he settled instead for stomping on the man's foot, glad he was wearing his heavy boots. The man howled in anguish but still did not relinquish his hold on Alex. Limping and swearing, he managed to drag a spitting, cursing Alex to the door. Alex fought the larger man with all his strength, taking note as he did that the bar's few other patrons had vanished. Places like this did not exactly invite people with great concern for their fellow man, and the regulars here did not relish an encounter with the authorities. 

 

Short and stocky muscled the door open with one broad shoulder and dragged Alex into the alley. He threw Alex roughly face down over a battered garbage can and wrenched one arm up behind his back. Alex gasped in pain and bucked wildly, trying to throw the man off, but he had no leverage. The man gave Alex's arm a savage yank, using his other hand to grab a handful of Alex's hair. 

 

"You're gonna pay for that, pretty boy," the man growled. "Gonna have to hurt you good." 

 

"Fuck you," Alex gasped. 

 

"Nah," the man leered. "I pitch, I don't catch. And you're about to catch plenty, wildcat." He released Alex's hair and snaked his hand between Alex's legs, giving his balls a painful squeeze through the denim. Alex bit back a scream. He tried to kick backward and break the man's kneecaps, but the man just grunted and moved closer, pinning Alex's legs between his own and the garbage can. 

 

Alex twisted uselessly in the stocky man's grip as he felt stubby fingers reaching around beneath him, fumbling for his zipper. He reared back as far as he could, to try to look his assailant in the face. 

 

"Get the fuck off me! I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" 

 

He was suddenly slapped with stunning force. Pain exploded in his cheek and eye socket. He felt something sticky on his face. Dazed, Alex raised his head to see the blond standing there, wobbling slightly, one bloodied hand cupped over his ruined nose. 

 

"You broag by dose, you little fug," the blond complained in a nasal honk. "I'be gonna bake you pay." 

 

"Oh yeah," the stocky man leered, struggling to yank Alex's jeans down over his hips. "He's gonna pay all right. We're gonna take it out of that sweet ass of his." 

 

Alex tried to keep struggling as much as his limited range of motion would allow, trying to buy himself some time. The feel of the man's thick fingers sliding under the waistband of his jeans made his skin crawl. He grunted as the blond's blood-sticky fingers grasped his jaw painfully, digging in. The blond leaned over Alex, his stringy blond hair, loose from its ponytail and matted with blood, hanging in Alex's face. 

 

"You fugging little slut. I'be gonna show you what happens to bad boys who don't play nice." 

 

Alex fought back panic as the blond grabbed the wrist the stocky man had been holding pinned against Alex's back and wrenched it even higher. The stocky man, both hands now freed, resumed tugging roughly at Alex's jeans. Alex knew that within seconds he would be naked and vulnerable, helpless to stop the assault. 

 

-Oh God Walter need you need you help don't want this don't want them please- 

 

Alex took a deep breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to regain control. 

 

Think, Alex. 

 

His heart pounding, knowing this was his only chance, Alex forced himself to relax, to stop fighting. He turned his head and looked up at the blond, who was glaring at him malevolently. 

 

Showtime. 

 

"Okay, okay," Alex gasped hoarsely, letting a fearful quiver creep into his voice. "Don't hurt me. You don't have to hurt me." 

 

The soft snick of the switchblade opening was loud in the eerily quiet alley. The blond grinned as he waved the blade back and forth in front of Alex's face, turning it this way and that so it glinted in the moonlight. 

 

"Oh, but we want to," he sneered. "We would have just fucked you, pretty boy, but now you've pissed us off. Now we're gonna have to teach you a lesson." 

 

Alex flinched and whimpered. 

 

"Please..." he whispered, trembling violently. "Don't, please." 

 

The stocky man stepped back momentarily, his eyes glazed with pleasure, devouring Alex's fear with obvious relish. He licked his lips at the sight of the little punk lying prone over the trash can, his jeans barely clinging to his ass, so invitingly raised. Fondling himself through his trousers, he laughed mockingly as those pretty green eyes widened with panic. 

 

"Just look at the little shit. Not talking so big now, is he?" he growled to his companion, his eyes glittering with malice. "We'd better get those jeans off him before he pisses them." 

 

Alex took this opportunity to slide bonelessly to the ground beside the trash can. He was kneeling in a pool of something foul and fought back the urge to gag at the stench. He cradled his arm gingerly. It was sore but definitely still serviceable, information best kept to himself for the moment. He made a show of trying to move it, pretending to bite back a cry of pain. 

 

He looked up at them pleadingly, rocking slightly on his knees, his eyes darting nervously from one to the other, satisfied that he had their undivided attention. 

 

"Please," he repeated desperately, "please don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt me." 

 

The blond laughed humorlessly and aimed a savage kick at Alex, who huddled in on himself and whimpered again. 

 

"Whatsa matter?" the blond hissed. "Did the little boy get more than he bargained for? Your mouth writing checks your ass can't cash?" 

 

Short and stocky laughed at that and stepped closer to Alex, who wrapped one arm around himself and bit his lip, watching the man looming over him with terrified eyes. 

 

"You punks are all the same," the stocky man sneered disgustedly. "You think you can get by with black leather and an attitude. Talk tough, shoot your mouth off, maybe get your ass slapped a couple of times before you get fucked." He leaned down and put his face close to Alex's. "Is that what you like? Huh, pretty boy? You like a little rough trade?" 

 

Alex shuddered and shook his head no, begging with his eyes. The stocky man grabbed him by the collar and shook him roughly. 

 

"Yeah, you like that, don't you? You like it rough, you little whore? Well, you came to the right place. Only my buddy and me, we don't play games with little boys. We're the real deal. Ain't that right, Jerzy?" 

 

The blond cackled gleefully, his eyes glittering madly in the moonlight. 

 

"Oh yeah," he purred, hard as a rock from the sight of the tears in the punk's eyes. "Gonna fuck you raw, boy." He slapped Alex again, hard enough to rock his head back. Alex forced himself to remain still, to take it. His torn lip throbbed and flooded his mouth with the taste of copper. The blond continued, enjoying the sight of the blood on Alex's chin. "If you scream real good for us, boy, we just might let you live. But," he gestured toward his bloodied nose, "I owe you for this, you little shit. You fucked up my face and for that I'm gonna hurt you bad." 

 

Alex rose up on his knees a little, frantically searching his captors' faces. He cringed back against the brick wall behind him and began to plead, his voice shaking. 

 

"Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked, sobbing convincingly. "Please let me make it up to you. Please?" 

 

He turned his face up to the blond, knowing he was risking another harsh blow. The blond cocked his head, watching Alex coldly, but unable to hide the curiosity glittering in his eyes. 

 

"Please," Alex begged, shuffling forward on his knees. He licked his lips and looked longingly at the men's crotches before dropping his eyes submissively. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not...I've never been to a place like this before. Please," he looked up into the stocky man's face. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. I'm sorry. Let me show you how sorry I am. Okay? Please let me." 

 

Short and stocky considered this, raising an eyebrow meaningfully at his companion. He looked down at Alex with a smirk. 

 

"You want to show us how sorry you are, little boy?" 

 

Alex nodded emphatically. 

 

"Please," he whined pathetically. "Please let me suck you. I'm real good. Best you've ever had, I swear it." 

 

The stocky man grinned cruelly. 

 

"You think that's gonna make us go easy on you? Is that it, you little shit? You think we're gonna let you go after?" He stooped down and grasped Alex's chin in one meaty paw, squeezing hard. "Well, forget it. You ain't gonna sweet talk your way out of this. Jerzy and me, we're gonna bend you over and give you what you've got coming. And then," he paused and gave a short, brutal laugh, "we're gonna make sure you learn your lesson, little boy. Nobody does what you did to us and gets away with it." 

 

The blond laughed and gestured with the switchblade, bringing it close to Alex's face again. Alex whimpered and tried to pull away but the stocky man held him fast. 

 

"Maybe I'll cut that pretty face of yours up," the blond growled, passing the knife before terrified green eyes. "Make sure you don't forget us, sweet thing." 

 

"You shoulda just played nice," the stocky man lectured Alex, releasing his jaw and shoving him hard enough to knock him off his knees. "You shoulda just given it up easy. Now," he grinned, unzipping his own pants, "we're gonna make you wish you had." 

 

Alex clambered back up on his knees, still favoring the sore arm, and held his hands up in supplication. 

 

"Please," he whispered, his eyes searching their faces desperately, "I...I know I'm caught, okay? There's two of you and you're stronger than me." He looked down, his cheeks burning with shame. "It's not a trick, I swear. Please believe me." 

 

He looked up, fighting back tears. 

 

"I know you're going to fuck me. You're...you're going to hurt me and there's nothing I can do about it. I know I've got it coming. I should never have tried to take you guys on. I...I was stupid. I got in over my head." 

 

He looked down again, slumping as though exhausted. 

 

"I'm sorry. I'm just scared, man. I just want to get out of here alive. I'll do anything you want, anything you say. Just please don't kill me." 

 

Alex sensed rather than saw the look that passed between his two assailants. They were his. He looked up into the stocky man's eyes, noting the way he had his hand inside his pants, absently stroking himself as he watched Alex plead for his life. Alex rose up on his knees, licked his lips again. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said again, softly. "Please believe me. Please let me prove it to you." 

 

Short and stocky glanced at the blond, who was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, his eyes riveted on Alex. The stocky man grabbed Alex by the hair with one hand, jerked his own pants and underwear down with the other. His fat, purple cock jutted out, inches from Alex's face. Alex fought the urge to turn away. Look eager, Alex, he reminded himself. Play the game for a few more seconds. 

 

"So, you wanna use that pretty mouth of yours for something besides getting yourself in deep shit, little boy?" the stocky man sneered. 

 

Alex nodded, letting another sob escape him to seal the deal. 

 

"Yes," he said, looking up fearfully. "I'm good, I swear, just like I said. You'll come like never before, I promise." 

 

The stocky man yanked Alex's hair, curling his fingers in it. He leaned down, almost nose to nose with the kneeling man. 

 

"Just remember," he snarled. "If I even think I feel teeth, they'll have to identify you by your fucking DNA. You got that, punk?" 

 

Alex cringed and nodded as much as the man's hold on his hair would allow. 

 

"I promise," he whispered, "I promise it'll be good. The best, I swear it." 

 

"It'd better be," the stocky man said truculently. "Now suck me. It had better be the best fucking blowjob I ever got in my life. Whether you go to the hospital or the morgue from here depends on it." 

 

"And save some of that sugar for me, pretty boy," the blond taunted, waving the switchblade. "Because as soon as you're done with him, it's my turn." 

 

Alex swallowed hard and nodded. His sore arm hung limply by his side. He leaned forward, noting the way the stocky man's eyes closed in anticipation. 

 

They didn't stay closed for long. 

 

Knowing he only had one chance, Alex moved with brutal swiftness. The frightened, pleading expression he had worn transformed into one of barely controlled ferocity as he wrapped one hand around the stocky man's cock and the other around his balls and twisted, as though wringing out a cloth. 

 

The stocky man let out a blood curdling scream and collapsed, clutching his wounded genitals. 

 

The blond bellowed with rage and lunged at Alex. Alex, staying low to the ground, swept his leg around and knocked the blond off his feet. The switchblade clattered to the ground. Before the blond could get up, Alex was on top of him. Bloody hands wrapped around Alex's neck and he twisted away, trying to keep his airway open, while at the same time pounding his fist into the other man's face. The blond managed to get in a solid shot to Alex's jaw, momentarily stunning him enough to enable his opponent to get the upper hand. Alex found himself on his back, the blond swinging wildly at him. One of the blond's fists connected with Alex's split lip and Alex cursed as fresh blood ran down his chin. 

 

Alex was barely aware of the piteous moaning coming from the stocky man, who was lying curled around himself a few feet away. The blond's face, contorted with fury, loomed above him as he again tried to strangle Alex, pressing his thumbs against Alex's windpipe. Alex began to gray out, straining for oxygen. In one last, desperate effort, he summoned his last reserves of strength and slammed the heel of his hand into the blond's nose. It was a lethal maneuver, intended as such, and only the man's last-second attempt to dodge it saved his life. He howled in anguish, clutching his nose as a renewed freshet of blood poured through his fingers. Alex threw the man face down on the pavement and grabbed two handfuls of stringy blond hair. His knee on the man's back, he began to slam his head against the ground, trying to knock him unconscious. 

 

He didn't see the stocky man crawling unsteadily toward him on his hands and knees, clutching the switchblade. 

 

The blond continued to struggle. Alex climbed astride him and gave him another brutal headslam. The blond groaned and finally went limp. Alex turned just in time to see the glint of metal as the switchblade slashed down toward him. 

 

There was a loud crash as a chair shattered over the stocky man's head, dropping him where he knelt. Alex looked up in shock. Pavel stood, half in shadow, the remnants of the chair in his hands. He looked down at Alex, his face suddenly bathed in red and blue as a police car screeched to a stop at the mouth of the alley. 

 

One of the cops approached Alex with his gun drawn. 

 

"Stay on your knees!" he shouted. "Hands on your head and interlock your fingers. Now!" 

 

Alex obeyed, staring numbly ahead while the cop quickly frisked him and cuffed his hands behind his back. The other cop made a quick check of the two men lying unconscious in the alleyway. 

 

"We're gonna need an ambulance for these two." 

 

The cop seated Alex in the back of the patrol car and shut the door. Alex peered through the window, watching as the two cops leaned over the two men on the ground and spoke rapidly into their radios. Alex blinked, trying to see more clearly in the dim light of the alley. 

 

Once again, Pavel had vanished. 

 

 

Alex dozed fitfully, huddled in one corner of the metal cot. He stirred and murmured a little as he dreamt of home, of Fox's soulful hazel eyes, of Walter's arms around him. Walter's voice calling his name, shaping it into something hushed and beautiful. 

 

"Alex." 

 

Alex made a faint noise deep in his throat and burrowed deeper into the thin jail-issue blanket. 

 

"Alex." 

 

Alex hovered between sleep and wakefulness, visions of his two lost lovers swimming before his closed eyes, knowing even as he watched them, smiling and reaching out to him, that they were just shadows of what once was. Ghosts of a life that had never truly been his, merely borrowed for a time. They were so close, Walter's hands. If he could only reach far enough, he could touch them. 

 

"Alex!" 

 

Walter's AD voice. What place did it have in this beautiful dream? Only a moment before his shadow lover had been whispering, laughing, murmuring his love. What had Alex done to anger him? Surely he wouldn't lose this too, this past-Walter who still loved him, still beckoned to him. Reluctantly, Alex opened his eyes, not wanting to leave his dream, not wanting to come back to this cold and empty world. 

 

"Alex!" 

 

Alex sat up, his eyes wide and disbelieving, his breath frozen in his throat. 

 

Walter stood outside Alex's cell, gripping the bars as though he wanted to pull them apart with his bare hands. 

 

Alex's mouth worked for a moment before any sound came out. He rubbed roughly at bloodshot eyes, still unable to believe that Walter was really there. 

 

"W-Walter?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. Alex's mind raced dizzily, overcome with fear and relief and hope and anguish. 

 

-He looked for me, he found me, to say goodbye or to bring me home? Oh God oh God please let him still want me- 

 

His heart pounding, Alex desperately searched Walter's face, seeking what lay behind those pained brown eyes, those large, white-knuckled hands clutching the steel bars. 

 

Keys jingled as the old cop stepped forward, unlocked Alex's cell door and opened it. 

 

"You're free to go," the cop said. "The DA's office dropped the charges against you." 

 

Alex looked at the cop in surprise. Had Walter done this? Had he used his position at the Bureau to get Alex released? Alex felt his stomach lurch sickeningly. Oh God, Walter, he thought. Please say you didn't, please say you didn't have to compromise yourself to try to save me. If I did that to you, made you do something like that...Alex looked up anxiously. The cop saw the questioning expression on Alex's face and continued, his tone gentle. 

 

"Those two lowlifes who attacked you were taken to St. Mary's. Once they came to, they gave the officers false names, assaulted an ER nurse and took off." 

 

Alex sat quietly, looking much younger than his years as he absently rubbed his sore cheekbone. A spectacular bruise was forming, yellowish green under the fluorescent lights. The old cop watched him thoughtfully. The kid looked shocky, out of it, no surprise considering what he'd been through. After 29 years on the D.C. police force, the cop had thought he'd heard it all. That was before the quiet, pallid Russian man had appeared at the Sergeant's desk and proceeded to give a dispassionate but meticulously detailed statement describing what had actually happened. The kid was lucky to be alive, by the sound of it. 

 

"The bartender gave a complete statement," the cop told Alex quietly. "We know what happened. We're sorry you had to get locked up, kid, but the responding officers had no way of knowing—" 

 

"Pavel?" Alex said incredulously, his eyes huge in his pale face. "Pavel was here?" 

 

The cop nodded. Alex shook his head in disbelief. Pavel, who would change the channel on the bar's tiny television when a policeman appeared on the screen. His eyes filled with tears. That was twice tonight that Pavel had saved him. 

 

"He, uh, had a message for you," the cop said. "He said to tell you he's out of your usual drink and that he ain't gonna be able to get any more. Said to tell you it's no good for you anyway." 

 

Alex smiled and nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

 

Make that three times. 

 

"Take care, kid," the cop said. "See the Desk Sergeant for your personal effects on your way out." 

 

He walked away, leaving the cell door open. Walter stepped inside and crossed the cell in a few rapid strides. 

 

"Alex," he said again, his voice shaking with emotion. "I...I've been searching for you all night. I can't believe I finally found you." 

 

Alex stood unsteadily, trembling with the effort. His joints had become stiff and sore as he slept, and his muscles ached after the pounding they had taken in the alley. He looked at Walter, his eyes naked and vulnerable, lacking even the energy to try to keep his defenses up. 

 

"Walter..." he said uncertainly. 

 

Alex stumbled and was immediately swept into Walter's strong arms. Walter held Alex tightly, stroking his hair with a shaking hand. 

 

"Alex, Alex, thank God," Walter choked, tears welling in his eyes. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. Oh God, Alex, don't ever leave us again." 

 

Alex clung to Walter, his head against the broad chest, the starched linen of the white shirt crisp against his cheek, Walter's rapid heartbeat loud in his ear. 

 

"Walter," Alex whispered again, still scarcely able to believe that Walter was here, in the cell at the precinct house, holding him, his breath on Alex's cheek, his voice in Alex's ear. Afraid if he clung too tightly that he might disappear, that this shadow lover come to life might vanish back into the bittersweet world of Alex's dreams. 

 

Alex raised his head, opened his mouth to speak. 

 

"Walter, I—" he broke off, his eyes suddenly riveted on Walter's shirtfront. As Walter had held him, some of the dirt and grime on Alex's jacket had rubbed off on him, leaving a broad black smear across the previously spotless white linen. Wordlessly, Alex traced it with a shaking hand. He raised his wide horrified eyes to Walter's, his hand pressed to Walter's chest. 

 

"Oh God—" he choked. "I'm so sorry, Walter." 

 

Alex backed away woodenly, his hand moving to his mouth seemingly of its own will, his eyes traveling sadly from Walter's impeccably polished shoes, to his neatly pressed trousers and topcoat, to his perfectly knotted tie. Looked down at himself, at the dirty boots, the ripped, bloodstained jeans, the battered, filthy leather jacket. Alex's nose wrinkled. He could smell himself, an unsavory combination of sweat, blood and the liquified garbage that had stained his clothes as he knelt in the alley pleading for his life. 

 

He swallowed hard, his dry throat making a tiny clicking noise. He looked back at Walter, seeing himself as he surely was, a thug and a degenerate. Seeing Walter, a good and noble man, every inch the AD, save for the ugly black smear that stood out on his white dress shirt like an accusation. 

 

Tears sprang to Alex's eyes. If he continued to make himself Walter's responsibility, his albatross, he would be a blight on Walter's life, as surely as the one he had placed on that flawless white shirt. 

 

"Alex?" Walter stepped a little closer, his expression puzzled. "What is it?" He followed Alex's sad eyes downward, then raised his head in surprise. "Aw, Alex, don't worry about it," Walter said, waving his hand dismissively. He continued, mistaking the true cause of Alex's disconsolate expression. Why in hell was Alex so upset over a damned shirt? "My shirt is the last thing on my mind right now. I can buy a hundred shirts. The important thing right now is you." 

 

Alex stared at Walter for a moment longer, his every impulse obviously screaming at him to fling himself into Walter's arms and never leave them again. He visibly held himself back, gritting his teeth at the almost physical pain of resisting the thing he wanted most in the world, the safety and security of Walter's love. He raised mournful green eyes to Walter, raising his hands in an almost supplicating gesture. 

 

"I...I can't, Walter," he whispered, his tone that of one who has lost all hope. "I tried so hard, but I just can't." 

 

Walter inched closer, not wanting to spook his obviously distraught lover. 

 

"Can't what, Alex?" Walter asked gently. "Talk to me." 

 

Alex backed away until he felt the cold cinderblock wall behind him. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, obviously exhausted. 

 

"I can't do it, Walter," he said, his voice thin and tired. "I can't be what you want me to be. What I want me to be." 

 

Walter sat down on the cot and let his hands dangle between his knees. He looked up at Alex, worry and fear and frustration gnawing at him. All he wanted to do at that moment was take Alex in his arms, get him home, make everything all right again. But he knew his Rat was scared, ready to bolt again. Slow and easy would do it. He had to be patient in order to overcome whatever flimsy argument Alex had thought up this time to convince himself that he was just a burden on Walter and Fox and that they would be better off without him. Then he could get him home again, where he belonged. 

 

"What do you think we want you to be, Alex?" 

 

Alex swallowed again, opened his eyes and looked down at the scuffed floor of the holding cell. He was silent for a long while. 

 

"Good," he said finally, his voice barely audible. "Like you. Like Fox." He choked back a sob. "I tried to learn, I tried so hard, Walter, but I fucked up, I fucked it all up and I'm sorry." 

 

Alex looked up, his once lively green eyes now hollow and bleak. 

 

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered again. "You tried hard too, Walter. You worked so hard. You never gave up on me." 

 

Walter met Alex's gaze evenly. 

 

"So what makes you think I'm going to give up on you now?" 

 

Alex slid slowly to the floor, drawing his knees up. He fiddled with the ripped denim over one bruised and abraded knee, picking absently at the dried blood there. He stared at the floor as he spoke, too ashamed to meet Walter's eyes. 

 

"At the restaurant," he said softly. "Fox's friend...the one who laughed at me..." Alex paused, trying to keep his emotions under control. "I was going to hurt him, Walter. I was going to hurt him bad." 

 

"I know," Walter said quietly. 

 

Alex wiped his eyes angrily with the back of one hand. 

 

"If you hadn't stopped me..." he trailed off, unwilling to give voice to the fate the Brit had narrowly escaped. 

 

"But I did," Walter insisted, his tone at once firm yet gentle. "No one got hurt." 

 

Alex snorted in frustration. 

 

"But what if you hadn't been there?" he asked desperately, finally raising his eyes once again. "What if—" 

 

Walter leaned forward, his expression intense. 

 

"The important thing is that I was there. I am always there for you." His tone softened and he slid down a little on the cot, closing the distance between himself and Alex. "Being a good person isn't about being perfect, Alex. Good people make mistakes." 

 

Alex considered this sadly, wincing at the memory of the terrified man, of the look of revulsion on Fox's face. His face burned with shame at the memory. 

 

"I forgot everything you taught me," Alex whispered brokenly. "I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to break his jaw so he couldn't laugh at me ever again." 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"I know," he said quietly. "You were already upset because you were late and Fox was annoyed with you. You felt threatened and you panicked. But, Alex," Walter paused and waited until Alex looked at him, "it's not the end of the world. We can get through this. It'll take a lot of hard work, but we can get through this. I will not let you fail." 

 

Alex smiled wanly. That was pure AD talking. He remembered Walter saying the same thing to him in his office at the Bureau, remembered how he had clung to those six words and wished that he was truly the person they were intended for. Wished he was what he had appeared to be, a rookie agent with a bad haircut and a bright future. 

 

"Alex," Walter said again, "I know you think what happened at the restaurant was unforgivable. But you're wrong. Nothing's so bad it can't be worked out. I love you and Fox loves you and we want you home, with us, where you belong. Nothing could ever change that." 

 

Alex looked up searchingly. He'd taken Fox's absence to mean that Walter had come only on his own behalf and that Fox was still angry. 

 

"Does Fox really...?" Alex began uncertainly. He gathered this thoughts and tried again. "He still..." He shook his head. "He was so angry at the restaurant, Walter. Are you sure he still wants me?" Alex looked around the cell, empty but for the two of them, his wounded eyes emphasizing his point. 

 

Silently, Walter extended his hand to Alex. Alex looked at it for a long moment before tentatively putting his own hand out. Walter gently tugged Alex up from the floor and settled him on the cot beside him. Alex shuddered and closed his eyes, a single tear threading its way down his cheek as Walter's arm encircled his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. 

 

"Do you know where Fox is, Alex?" Walter asked softly. 

 

Alex shook his head, biting his lip. 

 

"He's at home," Walter answered, rubbing Alex's back as he spoke. "He wanted to come with me to look for you. I made him stay at the house in case you came back there or called. I had to give him a couple of swats to make him calm down and listen to me." 

 

Alex looked up in surprise. 

 

"He feels horrible about what happened, Alex," Walter continued. "He's worried sick, literally pacing the floor. He blames himself for everything that happened. I was almost afraid to leave him alone." 

 

Alex felt himself slowly starting to thaw, the icy sense of dread that had chilled him since this awful night began slowly beginning to leave him. Walter turned Alex's face toward him and kissed him gently on the lips. 

 

"Come home, little Rat," he murmured. "Come home." 

 

Alex hesitated, only for a moment, before burying his face in Walter's chest with a small cry. Walter's arms enfolded him and held him tight, warming him through and through. 

 

"Home," Alex repeated, barely able to get the word out, his throat tight with emotion. "Want to go home, Walter." 

 

Walter smoothed Alex's dark hair, taking in his battered condition with a worried look. 

 

"What did the medics say when they brought you in, Alex? Anything broken?" 

 

Alex looked down and mumbled something inaudibly. 

 

"What was that?" Walter asked, one eyebrow raised. 

 

"I said, I...I refused medical attention," Alex said softly. "I told them I was okay." 

 

Walter filed that away for future consideration with a meaningful look. 

 

"I'll be the judge of that." 

 

Alex felt the familiar fluttery oh-am-I-gonna-get-it feeling in his stomach and embraced it with relief. It was a feeling he'd thought he'd never know again. He was here, safe, with Walter. He was going home. 

 

Just as Walter was about to stand, Alex wrapped his arms around him again, unable to wait even a few more minutes for another physical reassurance of his place in Walter's heart. He felt Walter press him close, one hand stroking Alex's unruly hair into submission. 

 

"I'm in big trouble, huh?" Alex mumbled into Walter's shirt. 

 

"The biggest," Walter answered softly, holding Alex tightly. "Let's get you home." 

 

 

Alex was barely aware of Walter walking him through the process of disengaging himself from police custody. He took the envelope containing his belongings, signed the forms given him, and followed Walter out to the parking lot like a lost puppy. He moved slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain as his sore and battered body voiced its displeasure. Walter was solicitous, helping Alex into the passenger seat of his sedan and waiting patiently for Alex to buckle his seat belt. He smiled a little and ruffled Alex's hair before shutting the door gently. Alex sank back into the seat, grateful for the reassurance, still afraid this would prove to be but a beautiful dream, afraid he would awaken any moment to find himself back in the dank holding cell, alone and hurting. 

 

Walter pulled out of the parking lot and started for home, steering with one hand and flipping open his cellphone with the other. Alex lay his head against the headrest, losing the battle to keep his eyes open. He listened to Walter's voice, suddenly faint and far away. 

 

"Fox? Yes, I've got him in the car now. He's okay, a little banged up but okay. Fox, calm down. We'll be there in about twenty minutes. I'll explain everything when we get there. Just let me get him home." 

 

Walter flipped the cellphone shut and slipped it into his breast pocket. He glanced over at Alex, sitting still as death in the seat next to him, his face waxy and pale in the moonlight. He reached for Alex's hand and gave it a squeeze. 

 

"We'll be home soon." 

 

Alex murmured a little, opening his eyes slowly. 

 

"I thought I'd never get to see it again," he whispered. "Never get to see you again." 

 

Walter smoothed back Alex's dark hair from his face, reaching down to caress his cheek. 

 

"I know, Rat," Walter said softly. "What am I going to do with you?" 

 

Alex turned his head slightly, kissed the palm of Walter's hand. 

 

"Sorry," he husked. 

 

"None of that now," Walter answered. "Rest, and I'll wake you up when we get there." 

 

With a tiny, tired smile, Alex obeyed, his quiet, even breathing comforting Walter as he drove his weary runaway home. 

 

 

Alex stumbled up the walk, supported by Walter's strong arm around his waist. Fox stood framed in the front doorway, his face white and anxious. As Alex and Walter reached the top of the steps, Fox opened the door, his arms already outstretched. 

 

"Alex...Alex..." 

 

Fox's voice shook. He grabbed for Alex, his hands grasping, seeking the lover he had feared he might never see again. He pulled Alex to him and hung on tight. Alex closed his eyes gratefully and rested his head on Fox's shoulder, one hand clutching Fox's shirt. 

 

"I'm sorry," Alex choked. "Fox, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." 

 

He trembled with emotion and exhaustion, nuzzling his head into the soft hollow of Fox's neck, breathing in the clean, comforting scent of him. He felt Fox gasp softly, then felt Fox's long fingers carding gently through his matted hair. 

 

"Oh God, Alex, no," Fox moaned softly. "It was all my fault, baby. All my fault. I was so awful to you. You tried to explain and I wouldn't listen. I'm the one who should be asking forgiveness, not you." 

 

Fox gently lifted Alex's chin and looked into his eyes. 

 

"I'm sorry, Alex," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry." 

 

Alex shook his head, Fox's pain only making him feel more wretched. He'd hurt Fox so much, and Walter too. If only he hadn't allowed the fear to overcome him. If only he hadn't panicked and broken his promise never to leave them again. Alex felt a pain in his heart at what he had put Fox and Walter through. He deserved to be punished. How could Fox possibly hold himself to blame? He opened his mouth to protest, only to be silenced by a stern look from Walter, coupled with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Walter placed his other hand on Fox's shoulder, and drew them both close. 

 

"That's enough, both of you," Walter said gently. "We're not going to do this now. Fox, please go upstairs and start a bath for Alex." 

 

Fox hesitated, but, reassured by a quick kiss from Walter, smiled a little and hurried upstairs. The sound of running water soon followed. 

 

Alex looked up at Walter, his eyes brimming. He was so ashamed. 

 

"Walter, I—" 

 

Walter silenced him with a kiss. It was a hungry, owning, wholly proprietary kiss. Alex closed his eyes and moaned softly, sagging a little as his knees threatened to buckle. Walter easily supported him, shoring him up as his tongue explored that lush mouth, as his teeth found that soft lower lip and nipped it gently. At length, Walter released Alex, placing another kiss, this one gentle, almost reverent, on Alex's forehead. Alex opened his mouth to speak again, his expression still one of worry and sorrow. 

 

"Hush, Rat," Walter said, taking Alex's hand. "Come with me." 

 

Alex nodded numbly, gratefully, and allowed Walter to lead him upstairs. 

 

In the master bathroom, Fox knelt beside the large sunken bathtub, swirling one hand in the steaming water as it filled. Alex sank down wearily on the closed toilet seat, barely able to keep his eyes open. Walter disappeared momentarily and returned with a large trash bag, which he opened and placed on the bathroom floor. He began to strip Alex, first removing his leather jacket and inspecting it carefully. He saw Alex watching anxiously and gave him a reassuring smile, knowing how much he would hate to lose it. 

 

"It'll have to be taken to a specialty cleaner," Walter said, folding the jacket neatly and putting it aside, "but it's salvageable. I don't hold out much hope for the rest of your clothes, though," he added, helping Alex out of his torn T-shirt and wincing at the bruises and scrapes that decorated Alex's ribs. Walter knelt and gently pulled Alex's boots off, placing them beside his jacket, and motioned to Alex to stand. Alex stood, swaying slightly, his hands on Walter's shoulders for support as the ripped and filthy blue jeans were carefully tugged down and placed in the garbage bag along with his T-shirt. Alex sat again, naked save for his boxers, shivering slightly while Walter added his socks to the bag of ruined clothes and took it away. 

 

Fox turned the water off and sat on the edge of the tub. He reached for Alex's hand, taking it in both of his, kissing the long, delicate fingers tenderly. 

 

"I love you, Alex," he said softly. "I'm so glad to have you home where you belong." 

 

Alex looked down, filled again with shame and regret. 

 

"I love you, too, Fox," he whispered. "I'm sorry I put you and Walter through this." 

 

"I thought I said we weren't going to do this now." Walter's deep voice sounded from the doorway. He walked over to where Alex sat and knelt down, reaching up to cup Alex's chin gently. "I want you to listen to me now, Alex. This has been a hell of a night for all of us. I know you're anxious to talk about it and I promise you that we will, all three of us. We're going to sit down together and we're going to deal with what happened." Walter paused, his brown eyes loving yet stern. "But it can wait. Right now, nothing is more important than getting you into a hot bath and into bed. You're cold, you're tired and you're banged up. Judging by those bruises, you must be hurting," he paused meaningfully, "especially considering you refused medical attention earlier." 

 

Alex gulped and nodded, looking down hastily. Walter stood and held his hand out to Alex, who took it and rose slowly to his feet. With Walter's help, Alex slid his boxers down and stepped out of them. Walter shook an admonishing finger at Alex as he guided him toward the tub, a definite twinkle competing with the sternness in his eyes. 

 

"We'll be discussing that at length, Rat, you can be sure of that. And one more 'sorry' out of you tonight and you're going over my knee. Is that understood?" 

 

Alex smiled a little. He was definitely home. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter arched an eyebrow at Fox, who had taken up position on Alex's other side. 

 

"And that goes for you as well, Fox." 

 

Fox nodded obediently. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter and Fox helped Alex into the tub, slowly lowering him into the water. Alex leaned back and gave a sigh of pleasure as the hot water lapped up against his collarbones. Walter perched on the edge of the tub. Fox knelt beside it, a knowing grin on his face. 

 

"If you think that feels good, just wait a minute." Fox reached into the cabinet below the sink and held up a small bottle. He pulled the cork out and held it under his own nose, breathing deeply, a rapturous smile on his face. "I was saving this for a special occasion. I can't think of anything more special than having you home again." Fox held the bottle up with one hand and tipped it, drizzling oil into the water. He dipped his other hand into the water and stirred it gently. In seconds, the room was suffused with the scent of lavender and teatree oil, heady and aromatic. Alex closed his eyes, his face glowing with the first real smile he'd given since coming home. 

 

"Oh, Fox," he breathed. "That feels incredible. Thank you." The delicious scent of the oil seemed to go straight to his pleasure center, and he could already feel it soothing and softening his skin. The backs of his eyelids stung with unshed tears. The guilt nagged at him. I don't deserve this, Alex thought, but didn't dare give voice to it. Walter had made his feelings known on the subject and Alex knew how much more a spanking hurt on wet skin. 

 

Walter's baritone chuckle made Alex open his eyes. The older man sat, one hand lazily trailing through the bathwater, his eyes fixed on Alex with a knowing look. Alex gulped again. How did Walter always seem to know what he was thinking? Walter reached into the water and gave Alex's upraised knee a squeeze. Fox took two washcloths from the neatly folded stack on the countertop and placed them on the edge of the tub, then reached back into the cabinet to reveal another indulgence: Alex's favorite almond soap. 

 

"Hold this for me, will you?" Fox asked with a grin, unable to resist passing the soap under Alex's nose before placing it in his hand. Alex inhaled deeply and smiled. 

 

"Mmmm, Fox..." 

 

Alex's drowsy smile widened as Fox and Walter both stood and shrugged out of their shirts. Alex's cock took a definite interest in the proceedings as Fox and Walter quickly stripped off the rest of their clothes and stood there naked, matching grins on their faces. 

 

"It's awfully lonely in this big tub all by myself," Alex said, his fingers making ripples in the water. "Sure would be nice to have some company." 

 

Walter laughed. 

 

"Scoot up a little, Rat." He reached down and helped Alex sit up and move forward before climbing into the tub behind him. Walter sat, his legs on either side of Alex, and pulled him back to rest against his chest. Alex sighed again, a sound of pure contentment, and closed his eyes. Fox climbed into other end of the tub and settled in with Alex's feet in his lap. He retrieved the washcloths from the edge of the tub and tossed one to Walter. Alex happily handed over the soap and Walter worked it into the washcloth, forming a rich lather. He handed the soap to Fox, who did the same with his. 

 

Walter began making lazy, soapy circles on Alex's chest and abdomen, making sure to pass lightly over the bruises and scrapes. Fox gently raised one of Alex's long legs and cradled the bare foot in his hands. He began to soap it gently, tempted to tickle the soft sole, but unable to bring himself to spoil the serene look Alex wore. 

 

Alex lay, supported between the two of them, his aching muscles soothed by the hot water, his lovers tenderly washing every inch of him. He leaned back against Walter's broad chest and practically purred as Fox turned his attention to his toes, lovingly soaping each one. 

 

Nearly asleep, Alex suddenly saw a vivid picture in his mind of the two men who had attacked him, the struggle in the alley, how close they had come to raping him. Tears came to his eyes at the thought of anyone but Walter and Fox touching him, being inside him. He shuddered violently, causing Walter and Fox to exchange worried looks. Alex's mind wouldn't let him relax completely, wouldn't let him forget. 

 

-They almost did it, they almost took me and I was scared Walter I was scared and I would have died before I let them- 

 

It would have been my fault, Alex thought desperately. It would have been my fault. I disobeyed Walter and went back there, went to a place from my old life, I should have listened, should have kept my promise... 

 

Alex opened his mouth to speak, looking around again at Walter, his eyes wide and sad. There was so much he wanted to say. Walter's wet, muscular arm circled around Alex's waist, anchoring him. 

 

"Shhh," Walter said softly. "Let us take care of you." 

 

Blinking back tears, Alex settled, feeling Walter hold him closer. Fox gazed at Alex, his hazel eyes clear and calm, as he carefully ran the washcloth along Alex's leg. 

 

"We love you, Alex. Nothing else matters now." 

 

Alex's heart swelled at the sincerity in Fox's voice, the promise in his eyes. He knew how hard it must be for Fox to restrain his natural curiosity, to hold back the flood of questions he undoubtedly wanted to ask. Alex smiled, knowing Fox was right. He was home, he was with Fox and Walter, where he belonged. He knew they would have to deal with what happened, but he trusted Walter to decide when that would be. Finally relaxing under their ministrations, he let the scented water and his lovers' hands calm and restore him. 

 

They drained the water, which had turned grey from the dirt and grime Alex had collected during his night away. Walter adjusted the taps and the tub rapidly refilled with clean hot water. Walter sat Alex up, took the bottle of shampoo from the edge of the tub and poured the creamy liquid into his hand. Using the sprayer attachment, he soaked Alex's dark hair and then rubbed the shampoo in. Alex felt boneless, giving a little moan of pleasure as Walter's strong fingers massaged his scalp. Walter rinsed and washed Alex's hair again before they were both satisfied that it was clean. Alex had never felt so loved, so completely cared for. The three of them stood, laughing at how their skin had wrinkled during the long bath, and stepped out. Alex watched the last of the water drain from the tub, carrying with it the last traces of his attackers' touch. Walter and Fox had washed him clean, made him theirs again. 

 

They quickly toweled one another off, Alex's cock leaping again as Walter dried carefully between his legs. Walter laughed and planted another kiss on his wayward Rat. 

 

"Down boy," he mock-growled. "I don't think you're up to active duty just yet." 

 

"But Walter," Alex whined, trying for irresistible. "It's just a few scrapes." 

 

"No buts," Walter said firmly, aiming a swat at Alex's towel-clad rear. "I know deep bruises when I see them. You're bound to be hurting and we're not going to do anything to make your injuries worse, so you can just stop looking so adorable." 

 

"I'm not sure I can," Alex husked, wagging his butt at Walter. 

 

This time the swat connected. 

 

"Ow!" Alex yelped. Fox and Walter laughed. 

 

"All right, Romeo," Walter said with a grin as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the tube of Neosporin. "Let me disinfect those scrapes and then I think it's time to call it a night." 

 

A few minutes later, three tired men climbed into bed, immediately arranging themselves in a comfortable tangle. Alex fell asleep almost immediately, his head pillowed on Fox's chest, one of Walter's arms around his waist. 

 

They kept him in bed for the next two days. 

 

Despite the pampering, the massages, the champagne and strawberries, the hundred ways Fox and Walter found to show their love, Alex's spirits steadily declined. He felt unworthy, ashamed of himself for accepting this doting treatment after all he had done. He knew that it was important to them to show their happiness, to have a tangible way to express their relief and gratitude that they had him home again, but every kind gesture made Alex feel more and more guilty. He tried to be patient, to trust Walter to know what was best. There was reason behind everything that Walter did, and Alex knew that this time spent luxuriating in bed together had meaning, as would his punishment when the time came. 

 

It was not until the second night that Walter finally pronounced Alex "fit for duty" and gave him the one thing he desired more than his penance: the feeling of Walter inside him, claiming him, of Fox's mouth around his cock, of his lovers holding him as their sweat and tears mingled, as their shouts echoed together. 

 

Alex knew that Walter would determine the proper time and place for his punishment. He also knew that he had broken some of the most important and serious rules Walter had laid down, and that his punishment would undoubtedly be the most severe to date. Despite his nervousness, Alex was anxious for the chance to atone for what he had done, and he counted the moments. As the third day began, Alex found it harder and harder to hide his distress. Fox was downstairs making breakfast, the aroma of french toast drifting temptingly up the stairs. Alex and Walter were in bed, Alex's head on Walter's shoulder, the morning sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. Alex made a small sound in his throat, wetness trickling from his eyes onto Walter's bare skin. Walter's hand tightened on Alex's shoulder and began to make soothing circles there. 

 

"Rat?" Walter asked with concern. Alex's throat tightened at the sound of their special endearment. 

 

"Soon, Walter?" Alex whispered. He didn't need to explain what he meant. Walter gave his shoulder another calming squeeze. 

 

"Today, Alex. Right after lunch. Okay?" 

 

Alex nodded, sagging with relief. He needed this. He needed the purging, the absolution. He needed to try to make it right. 

 

 

"We've been here before, Alex," Walter said sternly. 

 

Alex nodded his head miserably. His heart pounded. He had waited anxiously for this moment to come, but now that it was here, he had to actively force himself to remain in his chair. Accepting consequences still went against the grain of everything he had ever been taught, and his adrenalin was urging him to run. 

 

"Yes, Walter," he whispered. 

 

"Tell us, Alex." Walter's voice was sad. "Tell Fox and me what we can do to help you with this problem. Tell us what we can do to prove to you that we love you and that no matter what you do, we're not going to throw you away." 

 

Alex hung his head. Fox sat beside him in the matching wing chair, holding his hand tightly. Walter sat behind his desk, his face lined with concern. 

 

"It's not you," Alex said softly to the carpet. "It's not...I know you love me. You show me every day that you love me. It was stupid, what I did. I know that." 

 

"Do you remember the last time we discussed this, Alex? The virus scare? Your sudden trip to Luxembourg?" 

 

Alex nodded. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

"And do you remember the promise you made to me and to Fox?" 

 

Alex's lower lip trembled slightly. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter looked at Alex sternly. 

 

"And what was that promise?" 

 

Alex raised his head, his green eyes sad and ashamed. 

 

"I promised never to leave you again," he said softly. 

 

"And have you kept that promise?" 

 

"N-no, sir," Alex said around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. Please believe me." 

 

Walter leaned forward, his eyes shining behind his glasses. 

 

"I do believe you, Alex," he said earnestly. "I know how sorry you are. I know you didn't mean to hurt us." Walter took a deep breath and continued. "But the fact remains that you did hurt us, Alex. You did leave. You broke your promise to us. You also put yourself in danger by returning to a place from your days with the Consortium. That was another promise broken. You know how I feel about broken promises, Alex." 

 

Alex nodded, his eyes stinging. Walter was being hard on him but he deserved it. Everything Walter said was true. He was so ashamed. 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex whispered. He felt Fox squeeze his hand and looked up to see Fox gazing at him, his love warring with pain in his hazel eyes. Fox gave him a reassuring nod and Alex turned back to Walter, determined to do whatever he had to do to make this up to the both of them. 

 

Walter continued. 

 

"This has been an ongoing issue in our relationship, Alex, ever since that first Christmas together when I had to collect you from the bus station in the middle of the night. That was the first time I ever paddled you. I paddled you again after you came home from Luxembourg. I don't like to have to punish you, but you and Fox have chosen to give me certain responsibilities and obligations within our relationship, and that means that I have to take whatever steps I feel necessary to safeguard what we have together." 

 

Alex nodded numbly. Despite the affection and care that had been showered upon him the past two days, that small part of him that had once been that pale, unloved little boy worried that Walter's next words would be "goodbye, Alex." 

 

Walter saw that frightened flash in Alex's eyes and rose abruptly. He walked around the desk and grasped Alex's chin firmly. His brown eyes held Alex's with their intensity as Walter spoke, his voice rough with emotion. 

 

"I love you, Alex. Fox loves you. Do you understand? Do you truly understand? That look I just saw in your eyes has no place here. Not now, not ever." 

 

Alex nodded again, his lashes damp, worry gnawing at him. What if he couldn't do it? What if he could never lose the fear? Would they one day tire of trying to make him believe? Walter bent and kissed Alex, passing a hand gently over his hair as he returned to his chair. 

 

"Now then, Rat," Walter said, a little more softly, "as I was saying, it's my responsibility to find a solution to this problem. It is a major obstacle in our relationship and none of us will ever truly be happy until we deal with it. It's not fair for you to go through life waiting for the other shoe to drop, worried that the slightest mistake on your part is going to make us stop loving you. It's not fair for Fox and I to live with the constant fear that you're going to bolt every time something goes wrong. It's not fair for us to spend sleepless nights worrying that we're never going to see you again. Just as you need to know that we will always be here for you, we need to know that you will always be here for us, too." 

 

Alex nodded miserably. 

 

"Yes, sir," he choked. "I'm so sorry, Walter. Fox. Please forgive me." 

 

Walter smiled. Fox's hand tightened on Alex's again. 

 

"It's not an issue of forgiveness, Alex," Walter said gently. "Of course we forgive you." 

 

"Yes," echoed Fox. "We love you, Alex. I'll say it to you a hundred times a day if that's what it takes. You never have to doubt it." 

 

"I don't doubt it," Alex said quietly, unable to meet their eyes. "I mean, I know it consciously, but...I guess I just...I panicked," he finished awkwardly. "I did the wrong thing. I know that. I just panicked and ran." 

 

"Tell us how you felt, Alex," Fox said, slipping into profiler mode. His eyes were alight with the desire to solve the problem. "Tell us what went through your mind at the restaurant. What were you thinking when you ran from us?" 

 

Alex looked away. Talking about his feelings was never easy. He always ended up struggling to find the words. 

 

Walter nodded approvingly. 

 

"I think that's a good idea, Fox. It's okay, Alex. Take your time. Start with the incident in the restaurant and take us through what followed." 

 

Alex picked at the knee of his jeans. 

 

"I...I was upset when I got to the restaurant. Upset at myself for being late and for embarrassing Fox in front of his friends. I...I knew I was in trouble. I was worried about being punished, I guess." Alex ground to a halt, embarrassed. 

 

"You thought I was going to punish you for being late?" Walter asked. 

 

Alex shrugged, unsure. 

 

"I...yes. For being late and for not checking the oil in the Jeep before I left for Richmond. And my cellphone...I knew I would definitely get it for that." 

 

"So you were already agitated," Fox said. "And then when you came in, I just made it worse." He looked at Walter sorrowfully. "Walter, this is as much my fault as it is Alex's. Please don't hold him completely responsible. I was so nasty to him. He tried to explain but I wouldn't listen. All I could think about was how we looked in front of Terrance and Ian." Fox shook his head at his own selfishness. He looked at Alex guiltily. "I'm sorry, Alex. None of this would have happened if I'd just listened to what you had to say. I let my wounded pride get in the way and I'm truly sorry. Forgive me?" 

 

Alex brought Fox's hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. 

 

"There's nothing to forgive," he said, his eyes shining. "Nothing. It was all my fault, Fox." 

 

"All right," Walter intervened. "Let's take things one at a time. Fox, while it's true that you had reason to be annoyed with Alex, it's also true that you could have handled the situation better than you did. I think watching Alex's punishment, knowing that you might have been able to prevent this from happening, will reinforce the lesson and remind you to be more understanding in future." 

 

Fox nodded, biting his lip. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter turned to Alex. 

 

"Go on, Alex. You're in the restaurant and you see that Fox is angry with you. What were you feeling?" 

 

Alex thought hard, trying to find the words. 

 

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared that Fox would never forgive me. Scared of what you would say. Scared you'd be disappointed in me." 

 

Walter nodded understandingly. 

 

"I know that's a worry of yours, Alex," he said quietly. 

 

Alex nodded, his eyes bright. 

 

"You being disappointed in me, Walter...it's just the worst thing in the world. I never want to disappoint you," he said softly. 

 

Walter nodded again. His poor Rat looked so miserable, huddled there in the chair, his shoulders bowed under such a weight of guilt and shame. Walter didn't feel like being the disciplinarian right now. He wanted nothing more than to take Alex up to bed and prove his love, cover him with kisses until he could never doubt it again, plunge inside him and let him feel it from the inside out. But that would have to wait. First there had to be discussion and there had to be consequences. The only way to save Alex was to make sure he didn't run again. 

 

"Alex, do you remember what I told you before about disappointment? How I can be disappointed in the choices you make, but never in you?" 

 

Alex nodded, sniffling a little. 

 

"Nothing's changed, Rat," Walter said gently. "I am disappointed in what you did, I won't lie to you. But I will never be disappointed in you. Is that clear?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, managing a small smile. 

 

"Good," Walter said. "Now, what made you run like you did?" 

 

Alex swallowed hard. This was the hardest part of all to explain. 

 

"I just...after I...I grabbed him, the looks on your faces, on everyone's face...they were looking at me like I was a brute, a thug. I was afraid you would see me like they did. Like I used to be before..." he paused, blinking back tears. "I was just so afraid of what I'd done. Of losing you. I thought...I thought I'd finally screwed up so bad you wouldn't want me anymore." 

 

Walter nodded, giving Alex time to settle down. At length, he looked at Alex seriously. 

 

"Have Fox and I ever, in the time we've been together, given you any reason to think that we would do that? That we're so shallow and so disloyal that we would turn our backs on you at the slightest provocation?" 

 

Alex shook his head vigorously. 

 

"N-no, Walter," he said, his eyes wide. "I...I never meant—" 

 

"But that's what it amounts to, Alex," Walter said, not unkindly. "You're not giving us very much credit." 

 

Alex bit his lip. He'd never looked at it that way. He'd been selfish, thinking only of how he felt. He'd never truly looked at it from Walter and Fox's point of view. He looked from one to the other, horrified. 

 

"Walter, Fox...I never...I don't think that of you," he said, distressed. "I know you're not like that. I look up to you both, you know that. You're everything I want to be. I don't think you're disloyal or shallow or—" he broke off, fighting to keep control. He shook his head again, the picture of abject misery. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I fucked everything up. You haven't done anything wrong. It's me, it's all me." He looked at Walter. "I know I was wrong, Walter. I forgot everything you taught me. I broke my promises. I hurt you both so much and I know you're going to punish me and I deserve it, the worst you've got to give me." 

 

Alex hung his head, his eyes closed, ready for whatever he had coming. He clung to Fox's hand like a lifeline. 

 

"Alex," Walter said quietly, "listen to me." He waited until Alex raised his head. "You're right when you say that what you did was wrong. You did break your promises and you did hurt Fox and myself, and you endangered yourself in the process. There will be consequences for that. But Alex, this isn't about making you suffer. This is about you understanding what you did. It's about you understanding why you did it and even more importantly, it's about learning how we can make sure it doesn't happen again." 

 

Alex nodded. He wanted that. He wanted it with all his heart. 

 

Walter continued. 

 

"It comes down to trust, Alex. I don't think you completely trust Fox and me." 

 

Alex opened his mouth to protest but Walter held up a silencing hand. 

 

"I didn't say you don't trust us, Alex. I said you don't trust us completely. You haven't been able to let go of that last little bit of fear that we will one day get tired of you or get angry at you and we'll toss you aside. We need to work harder, all three of us, to get you past this, to help you learn to let go of the fear." 

 

Alex looked at Walter with anguished eyes. 

 

"Please," he whispered, looking back and forth between them, "don't blame yourselves. You've been so wonderful to me. It's been like a dream since I've been with you. You treat me like I matter, like I'm special. You love me, every day you show me, you tell me." He hung his head again. "It's me," he said sadly. "I'm the problem. Not you." 

 

Walter nodded, his heart aching for Alex as he watched his young lover struggle with the guilt and shame he felt. 

 

"Alex," Walter began, his voice soothing, "if one of us has a problem, we all have a problem. If Fox or I needed help with something, say, physical therapy for an injury, you'd help, wouldn't you?" 

 

Alex nodded emphatically. "Of course." 

 

"This is no different, Alex. Things have happened to you in your life, bad things, hurtful things. Things many people wouldn't have survived. These things have made it difficult for you to trust. Not impossible, just harder. You can do it, Alex. You can let go and trust us to love you, trust us to be there, not just in good times but in bad as well. You can do this and we're going to help you do it." 

 

"Believe it, Alex," Fox added. "We're going to be right beside you every step of the way." 

 

Alex looked at Fox and nodded, managing a smile. 

 

"I'm a lot of work," he said softly. Fox leaned over and kissed him soundly. 

 

"Anything worth having is," he answered with a grin. 

 

"I couldn't agree more," Walter added, unable to suppress a smile of his own. He looked at Alex, his expression growing serious again. "All right, Alex. I think it's time to get this over with." 

 

Alex straightened in his chair and nodded, ready to accept whatever discipline Walter deemed fair. 

 

"I'll begin with the lesser infractions first," Walter began. "I'm not going to punish you for being late to the restaurant. I know you didn't mean to be late and I know you feel badly about it. You couldn't have known you'd have to wait so long at the computer store and you couldn't have predicted that traffic would be so heavy. However, there is the matter of your having set off on a fairly lengthy drive without first making sure your vehicle was in good working order." 

 

"I should have checked the oil before I left, Walter," Alex admitted. 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"Yes, you should have. You could have done serious damage to the engine, but more importantly, you could have been stranded. You were very fortunate that the oil light came on within sight of a service station." 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

"Considering that, and also considering the reckless manner in which you drove out of the restaurant parking lot, as well as the fact that you then used the Jeep to drive to a place you were forbidden to go, I'm going to have to ask for your car keys, Alex. In a month, we'll sit down and talk about your getting them back." 

 

Alex had only had the new black Jeep for a few weeks. Walter had agreed that Alex's old car was no longer reliable and had allowed Alex to withdraw the necessary funds from the money market account they had set up together to buy a new one. As soon as Alex had seen the Jeep at the car dealership, he'd fallen in love with it. He kept it washed and waxed and, when the towing company brought it back from the bar the day before, he had gone outside to personally supervise the men as they lowered the Jeep to the driveway and unhooked it from the tow truck. 

 

He slumped, miserable at the thought of being without it for a month. But, he had to agree, albeit reluctantly, that Walter was being more than fair. 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said. "I'll get the keys...after," he finished nervously. 

 

Walter reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small booklet. 

 

"This is the instruction booklet for your cellphone, Alex. You have read it?" 

 

Alex flushed guiltily. 

 

"Yes, sir." 

 

Walter leafed through the booklet. 

 

"That includes the section on the proper use of the charging unit?" 

 

Alex looked down, suddenly very interested in his boots. 

 

"Yes, Walter," he said quietly. 

 

Walter placed the booklet on the desk and continued. 

 

"Is your charging unit broken?" 

 

Alex shook his head. "N-no, sir." 

 

"Then why was your cellphone not fully charged when you left for Richmond?" 

 

Alex picked at the upholstery on the arm of his chair. He looked up at Walter shamefacedly. 

 

"I just didn't, Walter," he confessed. "I...I was in a hurry. I didn't think about it." His shoulders slumped. "I know I should have charged it. I'm sorry." 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter said, sliding the booklet across the desk to him. "I think copying out this entire instruction booklet twenty-five times will help you remember in future." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said glumly. He hated writing assignments. But again, he had to admit to himself that Walter was being fair, and he'd more than earned his punishment. 

 

Walter looked at Alex, his expression grave. 

 

"And now we have to deal with the serious issues, Alex. The things for which I must punish you severely. Beginning with your attacking Ian in the restaurant." 

 

White-faced, Alex nodded silently. His hand clutched Fox's tightly. 

 

"What was going through your mind, Alex?" Walter asked. "What made you lose control like that?" 

 

Alex was quiet for a moment, then he began to speak, his chin tucked down toward his chest. 

 

"He...he laughed at me, Walter." He looked up, fresh humiliation and anger in his eyes. "He said I needed to be tamed, like an-an animal." Alex swallowed hard, the hand Fox was not holding clenching unknowingly into a fist. He looked down again, ashamed. "I was jealous of him. Jealous because he belonged in your world, Fox, not me. I felt like an outsider, like...like before." 

 

Fox clung to Alex's hand, his expression one of guilt and regret. 

 

"Alex, no," he said hastily. "I never wanted you to feel like that. He's not better than you, no one is." 

 

"It's okay, Fox," Alex said. "None of this is your fault. It's mine." 

 

"No," Fox said vehemently. "Alex, I...I made a mistake at the restaurant, a terrible mistake. I was so worried about impressing someone I hadn't seen in over fifteen years that I let it blind me to what was really important. I should never have spoken to you like I did. I should have given you a chance to explain." Fox paused and gave a sad chuckle. "Why was I so worried about what they would think? I don't even like Terrance that much. He's all right in short doses but he can be stuffy and just plain irritating. We weren't even that close at university." 

 

Alex looked down at their two hands intertwined, biting his lip as he listened. 

 

"Please don't blame yourself, Fox," he said softly. "No matter what, I shouldn't have done what I did. I lost control. I wanted to...I wanted to kill him," he finished, his voice almost a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, afraid to look at Fox or Walter. 

 

"But you wouldn't have, Alex," Walter's deep voice said calmly. "You might have hit him. In fact, you definitely would have hit him if I hadn't stopped you. But you wouldn't have killed him." 

 

"I wanted to," Alex whispered. "Just for a second, when he was there in front of me, I...I wanted to, Walter. I could have. You know I could have." Alex fell silent, a horrified expression on his face. What if he were really irredeemable? What if Spender's conditioning were unbreakable? What if all of Walter's best attempts at civilizing him were only skin deep, and within him would always beat the heart of an assassin? 

 

Walter felt a pang of sympathy for his Rat. 

 

"Alex," he said gently. "Let's keep some perspective here. This one incident doesn't mean we throw in the towel. It just means we have to work harder. Yes, you did lose control. Yes, you could have hurt Ian badly. That's a very serious thing, Rat, and it is cause for concern. But it's not reason enough for us to disregard all of the hard work you've done and the strides you've made since you've been here with Fox and me." 

 

Alex looked up uncertainly. 

 

"When we brought you here, Alex, you were half-wild," Walter said, smiling a little at the memory. "You'd never known anything but cruelty and neglect. Spender had trained you to be a killer, a weapon, and that's all you were. It's been a lot of hard work for all of us, but we've had the pleasure of watching you grow, watching you learn to love and be loved. Watching you try so hard to unlearn the horrible things Spender taught you." 

 

Alex's eyes swam. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Walter," he whispered. "I did such a bad thing." 

 

Walter nodded, his eyes at once loving and firm. 

 

"Yes, Alex," he agreed. "You did do a bad thing and you will be punished for it. But it's not the end of the world and it doesn't make you a killer." Walter paused, searching for the right words. "You were a killer once, it's true. But the young man sitting there in front of me, the man Fox and I have shared our bed, our hearts, our love with for three years, the man who loves chocolate and old sci-fi movies and breakfast in bed...that man is no killer." 

 

Walter was quiet for a moment, his throat working as he tried to keep control. 

 

"The young man who wakes up in my arms every morning, who makes the most exquisite noises when I'm inside him, who looks up at me with the clearest green eyes I've ever seen and tells me he loves me, he's no killer," Walter's voice was rough with emotion, "and I won't have you say that he is. Is that clear?" 

 

Alex's eyes shone with the understanding of what it is to be loved, truly loved and believed in by another. 

 

"Yes, sir," he said softly. 

 

"Now then," Walter said, the AD creeping back into his voice, "I am very disappointed in the choice you made when you attacked Ian." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said miserably. 

 

"Alex, you have skills and capabilities the average person doesn't have," Walter continued. "But with those skills and capabilities comes huge responsibility. Had you hit Ian as you intended to, you would have undoubtedly sent him to the hospital." 

 

Alex nodded sadly. 

 

"You have an obligation to ensure that you do not use those skills and capabilities to endanger anyone. Ian could not possibly have defended himself against you. Very few people could, if you were intent on hurting them. Do you understand that, Alex?" Walter asked, leaning forward intently. 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex replied. 

 

"In short, Alex, knowing that you have training and abilities well beyond the scope of most people, you have to be more careful, use greater restraint than everyone else. Is that understood?" 

 

"Yes, sir." Alex fidgeted a little in his chair. "I'm sorry, Walter." 

 

"I know you are," Walter said sadly. "But unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that you scared that man half to death and nearly got yourself an assault charge in the process. You were about to do serious bodily harm to Ian and if I hadn't come in when I did, that's exactly what would have happened." 

 

"He was provoked," Fox interjected, unable to keep silent. "I'm not saying what Alex did was right, but Ian was being...well, he was being an ass, Walter." 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"I understand that, Fox, and I have taken it into consideration, along with your own attitude toward Alex when he arrived." 

 

Fox hung his head. 

 

"However," Walter continued, "provoked or not, Alex has to learn to control his temper and to handle situations like this without resorting to violence." He looked at Alex. "You've done very well in the time we've been together, Alex. You came to me and you asked for my help, for Fox's help, and you entrusted yourself to us wholeheartedly. You've been willing and eager to learn a whole new way of life and you've worked very hard at it. I am proud of how far you've come." 

 

Walter's voice became stern again. 

 

"We agreed upon certain rules when we began our relationship, Alex. One of those rules is that you will not use violence against another unless it is in self-defense. You know that, when you attacked Ian, you broke that rule." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, his eyes lowered. 

 

"I'm glad you see that," Walter said. "It goes without question that I am going to paddle you, Alex. No matter how you are provoked, you are not going to resort to violence. That was a part of your old life and I am absolutely not going to allow it in this one. Is that clear?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said mournfully. 

 

"Good," Walter said, and then a little more gently, "I know you're sorry, Rat. I saw the look on your face in the restaurant when you realized what you'd almost done. I know you're going to accept your punishment and learn from it." 

 

"I will, Walter, I promise," Alex said. He had never meant anything more sincerely in his life. "I swear I will." 

 

Walter opened his desk drawer and took out the leather-covered paddle. He lay it in the center of the desk blotter and pushed his chair back. 

 

"Alex," he said simply. 

 

Alex gulped and nodded. After a brief encouraging kiss from a sad-eyed Fox, he stood up and walked around the desk to where Walter sat. Alex unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down to his knees, followed by his boxers. He lay across Walter's lap, scooting forward slightly so that his bottom was raised high over Walter's thighs. Walter helped Alex get into position and reluctantly picked up the paddle. He placed one hand reassuringly on the small of Alex's back. 

 

"What is this punishment for, Alex?" he asked quietly. 

 

Alex clung tightly to Walter's leg. 

 

"For breaking one of the most important rules," he answered, his breath hitching a little. "For losing control and attacking Fox's friend. For using violence against someone else, someone who couldn't defend themselves." 

 

"Very good," Walter said, rubbing Alex's back gently. "I'm going to paddle you now, Alex, and it will be hard. I'm giving you thirty strokes. You don't have to count them but I want you to think about what you did. Every single time this paddle comes down, I want you to think about how badly you scared Ian and how badly he could have been hurt." 

 

"Y-yes, sir," Alex gasped, screwing his eyes shut. 

 

The paddle snapped down with a deafening crack, landing right on the sit spot. Walter hadn't held back and a round red blotch quickly appeared on Alex's creamy white skin. Alex bit back a yelp and barely had time to recover from the first stroke when the second stroke landed in the very same spot. Alex groaned and kicked a little, unable to help himself. Walter anchored him firmly with one arm and raised the paddle again. 

 

It came down twice, in rapid succession, this time targeting the other sit spot. Alex hissed and kicked harder, ashamed of himself for not taking what he knew was just punishment quietly, but Walter meant business and it hurt. 

 

"Ow, Walter...shit, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" 

 

"Settle down, Rat," Walter soothed, bringing the paddle down again across Alex's previously pale cheeks. "We're not even halfway done yet." 

 

Alex squirmed, grateful for Walter's strong arm holding him down. He deserved this, was relieved to be paying penance for what he had done, but he didn't trust himself to be able to lie still and not try to run as Walter methodically ignited a blazing inferno on his bare ass. 

 

"Are you going to work hard to make sure you don't lose your temper again, Alex? Are you going to remember this paddling the next time someone provokes you?" Walter asked between loud cracks of the paddle. 

 

"Yes, Walter, yes!" Alex shouted. "I swear it! I'll never do it again, I promise I won't!" 

 

"And why is it so important that you restrain yourself from violence, Alex?" Walter asked, the paddle rising and falling, relentless, implacable. 

 

"B-because it's a rule!" Alex howled almost incoherently. "Because I could hurt someone, I could hurt them badly! Because it's part of my old life, it's not who I am anymore!" 

 

"That's right, Alex, that's right," Walter said soothingly. "Only a few more now, we're almost done." 

 

Alex made himself lie still, unable to stifle a sob. 

 

"Only a few more," Walter repeated, rubbing circles on Alex's back. "I know it hurts. But you earned this, Rat, every stroke. Think about the lesson I'm trying to teach you, Alex. Think about what you did and why you're being punished." 

 

"Y-yes, Walter," Alex gasped. "I know, I know I deserve it—" 

 

"Hush," Walter said. "You're not a bad person, Alex. You're a good person who did a bad thing and I love you enough to punish you for it." 

 

The paddle cracked down five times more and then it was over. Walter swiftly gathered Alex up into his arms and held him while he cried, knowing Alex needed the release, one hand rubbing Alex's back, the other cupping the back of his head reassuringly. 

 

"I'm sorry, Walter, I'm sorry," Alex murmured, his face buried in Walter's shirt. 

 

"It's all right," Walter said, stroking Alex's hair. "I know. I know. You did well, Alex. You took your punishment and I'm proud of you." 

 

"Me too," Fox said, kneeling down beside Walter's chair. His face was pale. "I...I think I'd rather have the paddle myself than have to watch Alex being punished, Walter." 

 

Walter reached out to Fox and drew him in close, kissing him tenderly. 

 

"I know, Fox," he said, his own voice strained with emotion. "I know it's hard. But we all have lessons to learn, the three of us, and we have to learn them together." 

 

Fox nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said to them both. "I know I shouldn't have behaved the way I did at the restaurant. I know this is partly my fault. I've learned a lesson, too, Walter." 

 

A few moments later, a red-eyed Alex sat again, albeit gingerly, in his wing chair facing Walter's desk. Fox sat beside him, once again holding his hand. Walter, clearly drained from the paddling, readied himself for the rest of what was going to be a very long morning. 

 

"Alex, I don't usually do this," he began, the difficulty of his task evident in his voice. "I don't believe in dragging out a punishment, particularly a spanking. But the fact remains that our rule against violence is of paramount importance, for your own safety and well-being and for that of others. It's also vital to the well-being of our relationship. When you broke that rule, you not only endangered yourself, you endangered our relationship as well, and that must be dealt with very seriously." 

 

Alex swallowed hard. "Yes, Walter." 

 

"For the next week, when we get up in the morning, I am going to spank you. It won't be like today, Alex. It'll be just my hand on your bare butt. When we go to bed the night before and you're thinking about the next morning's spanking, I want you to think about the fear that Ian felt as he watched you draw your fist back. I want you to think about what could have happened to him, to you, and to us, if I hadn't stopped you in time." 

 

Alex looked down humbly. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter studied him sadly. "Why am I doing this, Alex?" 

 

Alex bit his lip. "Because...because you want me to spend plenty of time thinking about what I did." 

 

Walter's smile brightened Alex noticeably. 

 

"Absolutely right, Alex," Walter said, beaming. "You got it in one." 

 

Alex looked at Fox, who rewarded him with a brilliant smile of his own. 

 

"And, Alex," Walter said, holding up his hand. "You will write a letter of apology to Ian." Alex ducked his head and nodded, but not before Walter detected a flash of rebellion in those moss green eyes. Walter chuckled to himself. It was good to see there was still an independent streak in his Rat. "I know he bears some responsibility in this, too, Alex, but you will do it nonetheless. And then you will write another letter of apology to the owner of the restaurant." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex mumbled, shifting a little in his seat to find a more comfortable position and quickly finding it a fruitless endeavor. 

 

"And now," Walter said, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, "I want to get back to your running away. We've been through this time and time again, Alex. Fox and I have done everything we know how to do to convince you that you're not here on our whim. That we love you, cherish you, want you here forever." 

 

"I know," Alex said softly. 

 

"You need to understand something, Alex," Walter continued. "You are not alone anymore. Those days are gone forever. You are now a part of something greater than yourself, greater than all of us." He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think about the incredible odds against the three of us ever coming together, ever falling in love. The obstacles we've overcome. We're so very lucky to have what we have here, the three of us." 

 

Walter looked at Alex intently. 

 

"Do you remember what I was saying a little while ago, about your skills and capabilities, and how with them comes responsibility?" 

 

Alex nodded. 

 

"The love that the three of us share is a beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing, Alex," Walter said. "But with that, too, comes responsibility. We all have to do our part to keep our relationship working, to help it flourish and endure. We need to be able to trust each other, depend on each other. We need to be there for each other, not just in good times, but in bad times as well. Especially in bad times. When you run away, Alex, that doesn't show trust in Fox and me. It makes it harder for Fox and I to trust you. Without trust, no relationship can survive." 

 

Alex's face was ashen. He trembled, his lips pressed tightly together. Walter's words had a profound effect on him. His heart ached as he realized, truly realized how deeply his running away had hurt Walter and Fox. 

 

"S-sorry," he managed to croak, staring down at the floor. Oh God, Alex, he railed at himself silently, how could you be so selfish? So stupid? He had run blindly, like a terrified animal, with no thought for his lovers, who had given him a home, a life, everything. He had thought only of himself, letting his fight or flight instinct carry him farther and farther away from the only people who had ever loved him. 

 

"Stupid..." he whispered. He looked up at Walter, shellshocked and devastated. How to say it? How to begin to put into words the cavern that had opened up inside him? How to begin to apologize, to make amends for repaying their immeasurable and precious gift with such selfishness, such lack of consideration? 

 

Walter stood and walked over to where Alex sat, pain palpable around him. He wore it like a cloak, bowed under its weight. Walter knelt and put his arms around Alex. Alex sat perfectly still for a moment, and then sagged, throwing his arms around Walter's neck and clinging like a drowning man. 

 

"Walter, oh God, Walter," Alex sobbed, his face pressed against Walter's shirt. "How could I have...I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry, I was so...I didn't mean to hurt you, I never meant to, I—" 

 

"Shhh," Walter said, holding Alex close, rocking him slightly. "I know. I know, Rat." 

 

"So do I," Fox whispered, kneeling beside Walter and putting his arms around them both. "We know you didn't mean to hurt us, Alex. We know that. We're right here, baby. We're going to beat this. We're going to get through it together." 

 

After a few moments, Alex raised his tear-streaked face. He laid a hand gently along Fox's cheek, caressed it softly. 

 

"How..." he began and faltered, the words caught in a dry throat. "How can you...forgive me again?" He looked away, his throat working. "I broke my promise. I left you. I swore I'd never do it again and I did." 

 

"Because we love you, dummy," Fox said, planting a kiss on Alex's damp cheek. 

 

Walter laughed. He pulled Alex to him again, into an enveloping bear hug. 

 

"One thing you ought to know about Fox and me by now," he growled. "We don't give up. Especially not when it's something we're passionate about, and Alex, there's nothing we're more passionate about than you. We love you. We'll never give up on you. That's about as simple as it gets." 

 

Alex smiled, his relief obvious. Walter and Fox stood, returning to their respective chairs. Walter folded his arms on the desk and waited for Alex to compose himself. Alex wiped his eyes and looked at Walter trustingly. 

 

"Okay, Walter. I'm ready." 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"Alex, this is hard on all of us. It's hard for me, and I know it is for Fox, too, to see you hurting and upset like this. It's hard for me to have to punish you, knowing that you realize that what you did was wrong, and that you're sorry, genuinely sorry for doing it." He paused. "But I do have to punish you." 

 

"I know you do," Alex said, his head bent. "I deserve it." 

 

Walter looked thoughtful. 

 

"What do you think you deserve, Alex?" he asked. "What do you think would be an appropriate punishment for running away? For leaving us after you promised never to do it again?" 

 

Alex looked up in surprise, then looked down again, his expression intense and serious. 

 

"F-fifty with the paddle," he said rapidly, his eyes dark and far away. "Fifty with your belt—" 

 

"Alex," Walter said. 

 

"...that time I got into a shouting match with the neighbor, you used the hairbrush on me," Alex continued, swallowing hard. "That...that really hurt. You could use that, and then—" 

 

"Alex!" Walter shouted. 

 

Alex looked up, startled. 

 

"Alex," Walter said, his tone softening, "I might be saying this for selfish reasons, but I'm sure I speak for Fox as well as myself when I say that I'd like there to be something left of that beautiful bottom of yours." 

 

Alex looked at Walter, a puzzled expression on his face. 

 

"But...but I have to be punished." 

 

Walter smiled. 

 

"Alex, I know how badly you feel about this. But the point of the punishment isn't to leave you in agony. It's to help you understand what you've done wrong and to teach you not to do it again." 

 

Alex looked unsure. He studied the floor for a few moments. 

 

"I...I don't know, Walter," he said. "I can't think of anything that would be punishment enough for what I did. I broke my promise, I hurt you both." He looked away. "I deserve to suffer for it." 

 

Walter and Fox exchanged pained looks at the sadness in Alex's voice. Walter took a deep breath and tried again. 

 

"It's not about suffering, Alex. Listen to what I'm saying to you. The object here is not to inflict pain, it's to correct your behavior. When I punish you, I don't always spank you, do I?" 

 

Alex thought for a minute. 

 

"No." 

 

"What other things do I do to help you learn, Alex?" 

 

Alex looked down, fiddling with the nubby upholstery on the arm of the chair again. 

 

"You...you make me stand in the corner, sometimes. You make me write a lot," he added, making a face. "Lines or essays. I hate that. I'd rather have the spanking and get it over with." 

 

Walter chuckled. "I know, Rat. But why do I make you write the essays? Why do I make you write the lines?" 

 

"To make me think about what I did," Alex replied softly. "To make me think about why I did it and what I should have done instead." 

 

"Absolutely," Walter said with a smile. "I know you hate writing assignments more than spankings and I think I know why. You've had to endure a lot of pain in your life. Pain is something you have experience with, it's familiar to you. A spanking is over fairly quickly. The writing forces you to really spend time with what happened, forces you to examine your behavior and the things that you need to improve on. It makes you have to look inside yourself." 

 

Alex nodded uncomfortably. 

 

"I want you to think back to the beginning of our relationship," Walter said. "Think back to those first few weeks, when you first committed yourself to Fox and me. When we laid down the framework for our life together, discussed the ground rules and the consequences for breaking them." 

 

Alex nodded again. "Yes, sir." 

 

"Do you remember what things were like then, in the beginning? Getting used to your new life here with us, to the structure and the discipline?" 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter looked at Alex thoughtfully for a moment and then continued. 

 

"Alex, you are not the same person that you were three years ago. You've worked hard to leave your old life behind, to learn how to both give and accept love. You learned that a bullet isn't the only way to solve a problem. You learned that you will never regret telling the truth. You learned about loyalty, respect for life...all the things Spender made sure you never had a chance to learn." 

 

Alex listened, his hand held securely in Fox's. 

 

"What I'm trying to say, Alex, is that learning how to live a whole new life is a very daunting task and you've thrown yourself into it with all you have. You've done everything I've asked of you and more. But like every other human being on this planet, you're a work in progress. You're going to make mistakes. The important thing is that you learn from these mistakes and move on." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said softly. 

 

Walter took off his glasses and lay them carefully on the desk. He looked at Alex, his eyes at once serious and loving. 

 

"I'm going to need you to trust me now. I'm going to have to take you back to basics, Alex, to the very beginning of our relationship." 

 

Alex bit his lip, huge green eyes watching Walter intently. 

 

"You're going to find yourself living under quite a few restrictions, Alex," Walter said quietly. "Restrictions you haven't experienced since your early days here with us. It won't be easy for you, I know, but you need intensified structure and guidance right now." 

 

Walter looked at Fox. 

 

"I'm going to need your help, too, Fox. We both have to help him through this." 

 

"I'll do anything, Walter," Fox said, gazing at Alex lovingly. "Whatever it takes." 

 

"Alex," Walter said. "Do you trust me?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said without hesitation. "I...I know it'll be hard, but I know I can do it with you and Fox to help me. I trust you, both of you, and I want the chance to earn back your trust." 

 

"All right, Alex," Walter said gently. "Until I tell you otherwise, you are not to leave the house unless either Fox or myself is with you. When I am at home, I want you with me. If I am not home, I want you with Fox. That restriction will be lifted when you've demonstrated that you can be trusted to use sound judgment and restraint. I'm going to ask you to hand over your checkbook and credit cards. Fox and I will make sure you have everything you need. Any purchases you wish to make will be discussed and agreed upon by the three of us. Any questions so far?" 

 

"No, sir," Alex mumbled unhappily. He couldn't help feeling wretched at the prospect of spending the next few weeks under virtual house arrest, but he knew that Walter loved him and wanted only the best for him. A small part of him also knew he deserved what he was getting. Walter was right. There were many kinds of punishment besides spanking. 

 

"I'm not doing this to make you feel like a prisoner, Alex," Walter said. "I'm not doing it to make you dependent on Fox and me. I'm doing it to help you. Right now, you need me to step in and reassert control, to give you structure and discipline, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." 

 

"Y-yes, sir," Alex said quietly. 

 

"I'm also going to limit your net access. It's going to be a pretty intense few weeks and I want you to be free to focus on the things we're talking about. If there's something that you need to do online that we agree is important, I'll allow you to use the computer in here. But I'm going to have to ask you not to use the computer you and Fox share and unfortunately, I'm also going to have to ask you to bring me your laptop. We'll talk about your getting it back when we talk about your car, a month from now." 

 

Alex looked miserable. The laptop was a cherished Christmas gift from Walter and Fox and he was rarely without it. He met Walter's eyes and nodded sadly. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

"We're going to be spending a lot of time together, Alex. Even more than usual. Most of that time will be spent here in my study. We're going to do a lot of talking, just as we did in the early days. We're going to break down what happened, figure out why it happened and what you'll do differently next time." 

 

Alex flushed and looked down. As much as he hated the feeling of letting Fox and Walter down, of making Walter feel that he had to take such drastic measures, there was a part of him that felt a strange sense of relief at what Walter was saying. He remembered those first days and while he had felt constricted, chafing under the many rules and their consequences, he had also felt a sense of safety and well-being he had never experienced before. 

 

"Spending time with you isn't a punishment," Alex mumbled guiltily. "I...I love spending time with you." 

 

Walter smiled understandingly. 

 

"I know, Rat. I love spending time with you too. Again, the point here is not to make you miserable. You're being punished, yes. But you're also trying to move forward and learn from this experience and that is every bit as important. We're going to do a lot of talking, yes, but I'll warn you now, you're going to be doing plenty of writing." 

 

Alex's look of misery intensified. 

 

"I know, Rat," Walter said regretfully. "But this is what you need and I am going to make sure you get it. You'll be writing about what happened, as well as your feelings about it and how you plan to change your approach to stressful situations in future. I'm going to want two pages a day from you, no exceptions. There will also be lines, and plenty of them. I want you to sit and concentrate on what you did. This is to help you learn, Alex, and punishment does play a continuing role in that." 

 

Alex gulped a little and fidgeted in his chair. 

 

"Yes, sir," he said glumly. The next few weeks were looking pretty grim. 

 

Walter was silent for a few moments. 

 

"This was the second of our most important rules that you broke, Alex," Walter said gravely, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. "You have to be spanked, there's no question of it. But I'm not going to spank you." 

 

He paused. 

 

"Fox is." 

 

Fox leapt to his feet, a stunned expression on his face. 

 

"What? Walter, you can't be serious!" 

 

"I am serious, Fox," Walter answered. "It was your temper that contributed to the situation snowballing the way it did. I think this will greatly aid you in remembering the value of patience and understanding. Alex needs to take responsibility for his part in our relationship, but you need to do the same." 

 

Fox folded his arms mutinously. 

 

"I won't do it, Walter," he said, his voice shaking. "I can't do it." 

 

"Yes, you can," Walter said patiently. "And you will." 

 

"Please, Walter," Fox said beseechingly. "Please don't make me do this. I said I was sorry for my part in this. I am sorry. Spank me, instead. I've got it coming." 

 

Walter beckoned to Fox, who went to him willingly. But instead of finding himself upended over Walter's knee, Fox found himself wrapped in Walter's arms and held closely. Walter said nothing at first, just held Fox until he quieted, until he felt the taut muscles relax and loosen. 

 

"Fox, it's true that I am making you do this as a punishment for your own behavior in the restaurant," Walter began quietly. "But I have another reason as well. By mutual agreement, I am the disciplinarian in our relationship and I have no desire to change that. I paddled Alex for his attack on Ian. But I feel it is important for you to share in his punishment for running away, for breaking the promise he made to us both never to leave us again. I want him to really understand that his impetuous actions affected the both of us, not just me." 

 

"I don't want to," Fox whispered, giving Alex an anguished look. "I don't want to hurt him." 

 

"I'm not asking you to hurt him," Walter answered, running his fingers through Fox's unruly chestnut hair. "I'm asking you to punish him. There is a difference. You should know that by now." 

 

Fox nodded uncertainly. 

 

"I know, Walter, I didn't mean it like that. I just...I don't want to spank him." 

 

"I know," Walter said understandingly. "I know you don't. It's something I have never asked of you before and will hopefully never ask again. I need for him to understand, truly understand on a conscious level, that the three of us are one, and what affects one of us affects us all." 

 

"I don't know," Fox said, looking back and forth between them. 

 

"It's okay, Fox," Alex said softly, standing up stiffly and unbuttoning his jeans. "Walter's right. You should be a part of this, too. Let's just get it over with. Please?" 

 

Fox hesitated a moment longer, then slowly nodded. He walked back to his chair with the air of a man going to meet a firing squad. Alex moved to his side and swiftly lowered his jeans and boxers, trying to make this as easy as possible for his troubled lover. Without waiting for Fox to tell him, Alex lay himself across Fox's lap. After a moment, he felt Fox's arm slide shyly around his waist. Fox's other hand came to rest tentatively on Alex's already hot and sore bottom. 

 

"All right, Fox," Walter said, taking no joy in the scene before him. "Give him ten swats." 

 

Fox paled a little and then nodded, his eyes lowered. He raised his hand reluctantly. 

 

"And Fox," Walter added, "I do mean good hard swats, just like I would give either one of you. If you go too easy on him, I'll have to give him ten more when you're done." 

 

Fox took a deep breath and raised his hand, bringing it down squarely on Alex's recently paddled sit spot. Alex tensed and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the next one. 

 

Alex clung to the leg of the chair with a white-knuckled grip as the next swat landed with a loud smack. The sting was unbelievable as Fox's hand connected with Alex's sore and tender backside. Alex bit back a groan, determined to make as little noise as possible, to make it easier for Fox. 

 

Fox watched as Alex's reddened flesh deepened in color, the image of his penitent lover bent across his lap blurring as tears filled his eyes. He brought his hand down again and looked at Walter pleadingly. 

 

"Go on, Fox," Walter urged, his own heart aching at the sight of his two lovers, both in pain. "Alex, what is this punishment for?" 

 

"F-for breaking the rules we agreed on," Alex managed, then gasped as another swat set his butt alight. "For b-breaking my promise not to run away again and...owww...for leaving you! I'm sorry, I won't ever leave again!" 

 

"Why should we believe you this time, Alex?" Walter hardened his tone. The words were painful but necessary. "You promised us before. What makes this time different?" 

 

"Because...because it is different," Alex tried to explain, his voice trembling with the effort it took to keep it steady. "I promise, Walter, never again! I won't ever do it again!" 

 

He hung his head and tried to hold the tears back as Fox, his hand shaking, delivered the final two swats. They echoed loudly in the oak-paneled room. 

 

Alex's shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his sobs, not wanting Fox to hear. Choking back tears himself, Fox lifted Alex up, settling him on his lap, feeling the heat from his bottom right through his wool trousers. Fox buried his face in Alex's neck and clung to him tightly. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Alex, I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't want to. I love you. I'm to blame for this, I shouldn't have said what I said at the restaurant—" 

 

"No, Fox, please," Alex said, "it's me, it's my fault, not yours. Please don't blame yourself. You did the right thing." 

 

"That's right," Walter said, coming to stand behind Fox's chair. He leaned down, his strong arms encircling them both. "I love you both so much," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm proud of you both. Thank you for trusting me." 

 

He promptly found out he wasn't the only one capable of giving bear hugs as his two younger lovers wrapped their arms around him. 

 

"We have one more issue to deal with, Alex," Walter said, "but I think it's best to leave it for now. We'll talk about it after dinner tonight." 

 

Alex nodded gratefully. Part of him wanted to get it over with now, but his butt alternately stung and throbbed, and he could see the exhaustion on Fox and Walter's faces. 

 

"Okay," he said. He paused and smiled a little. He felt a well of strength open up inside him that he hadn't even known existed. He looked into his lovers' eyes and felt a sense of peace. He could do this. He could do all they asked and more. "I'm going to pull the Jeep into the garage. I won't be needing it for a while." 

 

 

The afternoon passed like any lazy Saturday afternoon in the Skinner-Mulder-Krycek household. After the intensity of the session in Walter's study, the three men needed some time to relax and decompress. Fortunately, it was hockey season, and they settled in to watch the Maple Leafs soundly trounce the Canucks, Fox and Walter cheering lustily whenever Toronto scored a goal, Alex supporting Vancouver out of sheer muleheadedness. 

 

Alex lay on his stomach on the sofa, his head pillowed in Walter's lap. Fox disappeared into the kitchen at regular intervals, returning with fresh supplies of cold beer and popcorn. They lost themselves in the game, Walter nearly upsetting the popcorn bowl—and Alex—when the Maple Leafs scored the final goal. 

 

"You owe me five bucks, Rat!" Walter crowed. 

 

"You can take it out in trade," Alex said huskily, batting his eyelashes at Walter as he sat up, stretching with feline grace. 

 

"Hmm...how about a down payment, boy?" Walter said with a grin, leaning down for a kiss. 

 

Alex happily obliged, opening his mouth for Walter's tongue, sucking and nibbling at it, eliciting a growl of pleasure from the older man. 

 

"Mind if I join in?" Fox said with a wicked grin, wrapping his arms around Alex from behind and heading straight for one of Alex's most sensitive erogenous zones, the soft skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Fox kissed him, then sucked just hard enough to make a mark. He bit down gently, knowing how it drove Alex crazy, and was rewarded with a feral cry of passion from his captive. Alex leaned back against Fox, his eyes glazing over as Fox nipped him again on the other side, then soothed it with slow strokes of his tongue. Alex bucked backward, panting. 

 

"MmmOhGodFox—" 

 

"I think we'd better take this upstairs," Walter said, unable to resist running a hand up under Alex's shirt and tweaking a nipple. Alex was so hard he was already tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, below which was a spreading wet spot. Walter held out his hands. Fox and Alex each took one, allowing Walter to pull them up from the sofa. 

 

They made it upstairs in record time. 

 

 

Fox and Alex lay, sprawled and thoroughly debauched, in the ruins of what had previously been a neatly made bed. Fox reached over to the nightstand, displacing Alex, who had been lying with his head on Fox's chest, dozing in post-coital bliss. 

 

"Roll over, Alex." 

 

Alex stirred and grumbled. 

 

"Come on, roll over," Fox urged, stifling a yawn himself. Walter had worn them both out. Funny how sex seemed to make Fox and Alex want to curl up and sleep like cats while Walter only seemed to be invigorated by it, bounding out of bed after, practically humming with energy. Once, after a particularly vigorous lovemaking session, they had found him downstairs painting the living room. Right now, he was downstairs cooking dinner, beef stroganoff, Alex's current favorite, leaving his two gorgeous young lovers to languish upstairs in a pile of rumpled and very well-used sheets. Fox had a feeling that there was method to Walter's madness, and that the older man felt he and Alex needed some time alone. 

 

Alex blinked at Fox sleepily and then obediently flipped over onto his stomach. He bunched the pillow up under his head and closed his eyes, his lush black lashes stark against his pale skin. 

 

"I gave at the office," he murmured. "You must be really horny, Fox. You don't usually want seconds this early." 

 

"That's not why I told you to roll over, Ratboy," Fox said, rolling his eyes. He uncapped the bottle of aloe and waved it under Alex's nose. "I just want to put this on you, okay? Make you feel better." 

 

"You don't have to, Fox," Alex mumbled into the pillow. "It doesn't hurt so much now. It's been hours." 

 

"I know," Fox admitted, squeezing some of the cooling gel onto his fingers and beginning to spread it over Alex's pinkened cheeks. He could still feel heat in Alex's flesh, and he rubbed the aloe in gently. "It still feels good, though, doesn't it?" 

 

"Mmm, yes," Alex said with a drowsy smile. "It feels fantastic. Thank you, Fox." 

 

"Anytime," Fox said, smiling down at Alex, his sharp eyes taking everything in. The graceful curve of his back, his perfectly shaped ass, his long muscular legs. God, Alex was beautiful enough clothed, but naked...he was a work of art. Fox rubbed a little more aloe into Alex's skin, focusing on the sit spots that had received so much attention earlier in the day. He sat back on his heels and thought for a moment, not wanting to ruin the mood with questions. 

 

"What's wrong?" Alex asked without opening his eyes. He didn't have to see Fox to know he had that faintly puzzled, inquisitive look on his face. 

 

"When are you going to tell me what happened?" Fox asked quietly. "Where you went when you left the restaurant, how you got banged up, why you were in jail?" 

 

Alex was quiet for a moment, then raised up on his elbows and turned to look at Fox. 

 

"I'll tell you now, Fox," he said simply. "If you're sure you want to know." 

 

Fox nodded, his eyes large. He motioned for Alex to lie down again and resumed spreading the aloe on him as Alex began to tell the story of what happened, his voice soft in the quiet room. 

 

When Alex stopped talking, he turned again to face Fox, who was kneeling there on the bed, his face white, the bottle of aloe forgotten beside him. 

 

"They...they almost...God, Alex," he choked. "You could have been raped, you could have been killed. Jesus—" 

 

Alex raised up and gently pulled Fox down to lie beside him, stroking his hair comfortingly. 

 

"It's okay, Fox," he soothed. "It's okay. I didn't let them, baby. I fought them. I would never have let them take me." 

 

"But what if..." Fox said, his voice shaking. "...what if they had overpowered you? What if you hadn't been able to fight them off? What if the bartender hadn't stepped in? You wouldn't just have gotten raped, Alex. You'd be dead. Fucking dead, Alex." 

 

"But I'm not, Fox," Alex said softly, snuggling closer. "I won't lie to you, it was pretty close there for a few minutes. But the important thing is that I'm here now, safe and alive." 

 

Fox closed his eyes and buried his face in Alex's chest. 

 

"What you went through in that alley," he whispered. "Oh God, Alex. When I think of it—" 

 

"Don't, please," Alex said gently, his eyes shining. "Please don't, Fox. Don't think about what could have happened. They...they tried but they didn't succeed. I've been through worse." He paused and looked away, his eyes darkening briefly. "I'm sorry, Fox. I wish I didn't have to tell you. But it's the truth, and you have a right to know." 

 

"Please don't ever do that again," Fox said fiercely, his eyes wet. "Don't you ever go back to a place like that again. You promise me, Alex." 

 

"I promise," Alex said, sealing it with a kiss. "I promise, Fox. Never again." 

 

The men dawdled over dinner and took the clean-up slowly, none of them eager to head back into Walter's study and deal with their unfinished business. Finally, it was Alex who put the last plate into the cabinet and said, "I guess it's time. Let's get this over with." 

 

Fox and Alex sat in their respective wing chairs. Walter closed the study door and sat on the edge of his desk, his arms folded, regarding Alex sadly. 

 

"I don't want to be in here any more than you do," he said gravely. "It's been an exhausting day for us all. I'd like nothing more than for us to forget this and enjoy our evening, but we can't do that, Alex. This is too important." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, looking down, ashamed. "I'm sorry we have to do this." 

 

"I'm sorry, too," Walter said. "But we have to address one more issue, and that's the fact that you broke the first rule we ever laid down together. One of the most important rules we have. What is that rule?" 

 

Alex swallowed hard. He spoke in a low voice, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet Walter's eyes because of the sorrow and shame he felt. 

 

"I am forbidden to have any contact with anyone or anything associated with the Consortium," he recited softly. 

 

"And why did we make that rule, Alex?" Walter pressed. "Why is that so important?" 

 

"Because it's dangerous," Alex answered, raising his head a little. "Because it's a part of my old life, a life I don't live anymore. It has no place here." 

 

"Then why did you do it?" Fox suddenly exploded, bright spots of color rising on his cheekbones. He got out of his chair and began to pace. "How could you, Alex? How could you go to a place like that, a fucking Consortium hangout? We have one fight and you run right back there? What if some of Spender's people had been there? What if those two bastards who attacked you had been a little faster, a little smarter than you? You could have been killed! How would we have ever known what happened to you?" 

 

Alex sat, his eyes lowered, mute and accepting. 

 

"Fox," Walter said gently. 

 

"It's okay, Walter," Alex said, "he has a right to be angry with me. You both do." 

 

"That may be true, Alex," Walter said, "but anger isn't going to solve anything." 

 

"I know," Alex said, looking down at his hands. "But he needs to get it out. Maybe you do, too, Walter. You can yell at me. I deserve it." 

 

"I'm not going to yell at you, Alex," Walter said solemnly. "I promise you, though, that by the time you leave this room, you are going to understand the seriousness of what you did and what could have happened because of it." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said quietly. "I think I'm understanding it now." He looked at Fox, who had come to a stop on the other side of the room, staring out of the window, his hands jammed into his pockets. 

 

"I'm sorry, Fox," Alex said simply. "I'm sorry for all of it. I shouldn't have gone back there, I know that. I just...when I ran out of the restaurant, I thought it was over. I thought it didn't matter what happened to me. I guess I wanted to...I needed something familiar." He looked away. "I...I don't really know why I did it. I just wanted to drink until I couldn't feel anymore and that was a place I remembered." 

 

Fox crossed the room in a few rapid strides and sank down in the opposite wing chair. He reached for Alex's hand and held it tightly. 

 

"How could you ever think that, Alex? That it didn't matter what happened to you? You just walk back into a Consortium dive without a second's thought?" 

 

"I guess I wasn't doing much thinking at all," Alex mumbled, hanging his head. "I'm sorry." 

 

"Just remember what you said upstairs," Fox pleaded, his eyes moist. "You promised you'd never do it again. You promised me, Alex." 

 

"I know," Alex said, turning his eyes to Walter. "I did promise him, Walter. And I'm promising you, too. Never again." 

 

"I believe you," Walter replied, his expression one of true regret. "But you know that this was a serious breach of our rules. You know what could and very nearly did happen to you. Do you have any idea what it would do to us to lose you, Alex? Any idea at all?" Walter's voice cracked with emotion. 

 

Alex gulped and ducked his head again, his eyes bright. 

 

"Yes," he admitted softly. "I do know. I know what I did was wrong, dangerous and just plain stupid. I'm sorry." 

 

Walter rose and put one hand on Alex's shoulder. 

 

"I'm sorry too," he said again. "More than you know. It hurts me to have to punish you, Alex. I want you to remember that." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex whispered, biting his lip. 

 

Walter walked over to the narrow burnished wood cabinet that stood behind his desk and opened the door. He withdrew a slender, whippy cane and laid it on the desk. Alex's eyes followed it with horrified fascination. 

 

"I've had this cane for a long time, Alex," Walter said, sitting on the edge of the desk again. "I've never used it on you. I've only used it on Fox once, and that was years ago." 

 

"I went after a killer alone," Fox explained quietly, looking down as he spoke. "I ditched Scully and didn't tell anyone where I was going. It was just good luck that the local police pulled the guy over for speeding and they found me tied up in the trunk." 

 

"You got ten of the best," Walter said, looking at Fox sternly. "And you deserved every stroke." 

 

Fox nodded, his expression grave. 

 

Walter looked at Alex, who sat eyeing the cane warily. 

 

"Have you ever been caned, Alex?" 

 

"N-no, Walter." 

 

Walter picked up the cane, holding it in his hands. 

 

"I don't like the idea of having to use this on you, Alex," he said, his unhappiness with the job at hand evident on his face. "But this is a very serious offense and for the first time since we began this relationship, I feel it's warranted." 

 

He paused, looking into Alex's eyes. 

 

"More than that, I feel it's necessary. You know that the rule against you having any connection at all to the Consortium is one of the most important of all of our rules. You know that what you did was dangerous and thoughtless. You weren't thinking about your own safety and well-being and you weren't thinking about Fox and myself. You were very nearly raped and could have been killed." 

 

Walter put the cane down and rolled up his sleeves. Alex paled visibly. 

 

"In short," Walter concluded, "you endangered yourself, first and foremost. You also endangered our relationship by doing something you knew was expressly forbidden and putting yourself in a potentially life-threatening situation. Alex, I said earlier that you are not the same person now as you were when you first came here. One reason for that is that for the last three years you have had no contact with anyone or anything from your former life. I intend to keep it that way. I want you to think twice before you ever even consider breaking the promise you made to the both of us today." 

 

Alex nodded, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. His heart seemed to be pounding in his throat. He had never been caned before, but he'd heard stories. He had a feeling it was going to be an experience he wouldn't soon forget. He looked up at Walter again, trust, not fear, shining in his eyes. 

 

"I...I know how serious it was, what I did," he said quietly. "I know what a serious punishment the cane is. I can see how much you hate using it. I'm..." he trailed off, a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry for making you have to do it." 

 

"Thank you, Alex," Walter said. "You're right. I do hate to use it. That's why this is the first time it's been out of that cabinet in a very long time. I never wanted to have to use it again. But I think it's the only appropriate punishment for so serious an infraction." 

 

He stood up and picked up the cane, gesturing toward the desk. 

 

"Sweats and boxers down, please. Go ahead and step out of them," he said briskly, wanting to get the caning over as soon as possible. "Over the desk, please, Alex. I'm going to give you six of the best," he added as Alex stood and walked over to the desk, "plus one for refusing medical attention at the jail. You know how I feel about that." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, tugging his boxers down to join the sweats already pooled at his ankles. He kicked them off, and at Walter's nod, bent over the desk, the polished wood cold against his bare skin. 

 

A slight cough was heard from Fox's direction. 

 

"Walter, I should go—" 

 

"No, Fox. Stay where you are," Walter interjected. "I want you to stay for this. I want this to help you remember as well." 

 

Fox nodded unhappily. Alex gripped the edge of the desk and waited. 

 

Walter put one hand on the small of Alex's back while the other hand raised the cane high. 

 

"I'm not going to lie to you, Alex," he said gently. "This will hurt. Feel free to cry out, but please try not to move." 

 

Alex nodded and closed his eyes, his mouth set in a tight line. He deserved this. He could do this. 

 

"Count, please." Walter's voice was followed by the unmistakable swish of the cane. It was a moment before Alex felt the line of fire it had drawn across his naked backside. 

 

He sucked in his breath and held it, forced himself to count to ten. 

 

"One," he finally gasped. Shit, it hurt! And he had six more to go. 

 

The cane sliced down again, painting another neat line directly below the first. Alex jumped a little and felt Walter's hand pressing down a little more firmly. 

 

"Remember to hold still, Alex," Walter warned. "Count, please." 

 

"T-two!" Alex gasped, resting his cheek against the desk blotter. He panted, trying to breathe through the pain. 

 

"You're doing well, Alex," Walter said, raising his arm again. "Only five more to go. What is this punishment for, Alex? Why are you getting a caning?" 

 

Alex screwed his eyes tight shut as the dreaded swish came again and so did the indescribable burning pain, this time right in the sensitive crease between his buttocks and thighs. 

 

"I...ow! Jesus! Th-three! I...because I broke one of the most important rules!" He blurted, tears threatening to squeeze past his thick lashes. "I went back to a place I used to go to when I was in the Consortium! I put myself in danger!" 

 

"That's right, Alex," Walter agreed, laying another stripe down. Alex's grip on the edge of the desk tightened, turning his knuckles white. His gasp echoed in the small room. 

 

"F-four," Alex managed, a hitching sob breaking free. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Walter, please—" 

 

"Only three more, Alex," Walter said soothingly, his own heart heavy at the sound of Alex's cries. A glance at Fox proved that he, too, was suffering with every stroke. 

 

Alex steeled himself, trembling with the effort of remaining still, waiting for the next stroke. He heard the cane split the air and groaned even before it made contact. 

 

"Ow! Oh God—" Alex began to plead, hating the sound of it but unable to stop himself. "Please, Walter, no more. I'm sorry, I swear I am, please—" 

 

"I know you are," Walter said soothingly. "Only two more. Count for me now, Alex." 

 

Alex fought to get himself under control. 

 

"Five," he managed at last, panting. 

 

The sixth stroke cut right across his sit spots, causing Alex to hiss and arch, despite his best efforts to obey Walter and remain still. He felt the warm weight of Walter's hand on his back and pressed himself to the desk again, his chest heaving. 

 

"S-six!" he shouted, sobbing openly. He began to babble, the agony that was his backside shutting out all else. "Please, Walter, please, oh God, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—" 

 

Walter waited, rubbing circles on Alex's exposed back, until Alex subsided a little, his chest hitching as he tried to quiet himself. 

 

"I know, Rat," Walter said, tears standing in his own eyes. He looked down at the hated implement he clutched in his hand. "I know it hurts. I hope this will help you remember and never forget that you have a new life now, here with us, and that we love you. Remember that your old life and all that went with it are over and they have no place here." 

 

Walter paused, composing himself. Fox bowed his head, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. 

 

"We claimed you from that life, Alex," Walter continued, his voice trembling. "We claimed you from it and we're not giving you back." 

 

"Don't want to go back," Alex choked, his cheek against the desk. "I'm sorry, I swear. I won't do it again. Never, Walter. Never." 

 

"I'm glad," Walter replied softly, reluctantly raising the cane once more. "One more and it's over. Tell me why you're getting an extra stroke, Alex." 

 

Alex closed his eyes and swallowed. The thought of even one more stroke was enough to make him shiver. The thought of sitting down anytime in the near future was ludicrous at best. 

 

He knew now why Walter had made him take his sweats and boxers off instead of just pulling them down. 

 

"B-because I refused medical attention after I'd been hurt," he whispered. "I endangered myself. I...I thought I didn't matter anymore." 

 

"That's right, Alex," Walter said, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. "That's never ever acceptable. You do matter, and you must always give your health and well-being top priority. Endangering your health is one very sure way to end up right where you are now," he admonished. 

 

He brought the cane down one final time. 

 

Alex threw his head back and howled, the count forgotten for good. Walter threw the cane down and gathered Alex into his arms. Alex clung to him like a limpet as Walter lead him into the living room. There, he gently lay Alex face down on the sofa. Alex hid his face in his arms and wept quietly. 

 

"I'll go get the aloe," an ashen-faced Fox said, heading for the stairs. 

 

"Ice is better at first," Walter said, heading for the kitchen. "But we'll need the aloe later." 

 

Walter quickly filled a large plastic freezer bag with ice and wrapped it in a thin teatowel. Returning to the living room, he carefully lifted Alex's head and sat down, resting Alex's head in his lap. Alex wrapped himself around Walter as much as he could while in his prone position. He bared his teeth and hissed as the ice pack was lowered onto his extremely sore bottom. 

 

"Easy, Alex," Walter said, rubbing Alex's back. "It'll feel better in a minute." 

 

Gradually, the ice began to do its work, and Alex stilled, his head pillowed on Walter's thigh. 

 

"Sorry," Alex murmured, almost too softly to hear. "So sorry, Walter." 

 

"Shhh," Walter said, rubbing circles between Alex's shoulderblades. "It's over now, Rat. You've been punished and it's over. I'm proud of you and I love you. Fox loves you. Everything's going to be all right." 

 

Alex let out a faint sigh and fell asleep, leaving Walter and Fox to attend to his throbbing bottom. Walter kept the ice on, sending Fox to the kitchen to refill the bag with fresh cubes so as not to awaken Alex. When the second bag of ice was reduced to water, Fox dumped it into the sink and then, gently, coated Alex's bottom with aloe, passing carefully over the angry red stripes the cane had left. 

 

"I wish I didn't have to do that," Walter said, looking down. "The way he cried..." 

 

Fox stood behind the sofa and put his arms around Walter, holding him the way Walter had held him so many times. 

 

"I know," he said softly. "He knows, too. We both know how lucky we are that you love us enough to do the hard things. The things that hurt you, too." 

 

They stayed like that for a little while, Fox's head resting on Walter's shoulder, Walter's hand covering Fox's, Alex sleeping soundly beside them. 

 

 

Three days later... 

 

Fox was stacking the lunch dishes when the doorbell rang. A glance into the living room, where Walter napped on the sofa and Alex sat glumly paging through a book on anger management, proved that no one else was going to get the door. 

 

Wiping his hands on the teatowel, Fox went to the front door and opened it. 

 

"Hello, Fox," Terrance said apologetically. "So sorry for not calling first, but Ian and I are just passing back through town on our way back home. May we come in?" 

 

"Uh, sure," Fox said, surprised. "Can I get you anything?" 

 

"Oh, no thank you," Terrance said. "We've only got a few minutes." He paused in the entranceway and waited for Ian to follow him in. The smaller man entered and stood close to his partner, looking around the place anxiously, his blond hair flopping into his eyes. 

 

"Hullo, Fox," he mumbled. 

 

"Hi, Ian," Fox said politely. "What can I...?" 

 

"Oh, yes, forgive me," Terrance said. "Is...is Alex about?" 

 

Fox blinked, surprised again. 

 

"Yes," he said, "just a moment." 

 

He walked into the living room, wondering what this was all about, and hoping it didn't prove disastrous. He woke Walter, who quickly sat up, smoothed his hair and put on his glasses. Alex put down his book but hesitated at following Fox and Walter into the entranceway. A glance from Walter inspired him and he shuffled along behind them, hands in his pockets, glowering. 

 

Absence had not made the heart grow fonder in the case of Alex and Ian. Alex eyed him warily. The little shit. He sighed inwardly. He shouldn't have done what he did, but Fox was right, the limey's attitude hadn't helped matters. 

 

"Hello, Alex," Terrance said, extending his hand. After a moment's pause, Alex stepped forward and shook it briefly. 

 

"Hello." 

 

"Um, look," Terrance said quickly. "I'm terribly sorry for barging in like this, but it's rather important." He gave Ian a meaningful look. 

 

Ian responded to Terrance with a definite "do I have to?" look. 

 

Another look from Terrance. 

 

Yes, you have to. 

 

Ian gulped and stepped forward, nervously shoving the hair out of his eyes as he did. He looked back at Terrance pleadingly, but Terrance was implacable. 

 

Ian approached Alex warily, then stopped in front of him and stared at the floor, his hands in his pockets. 

 

"I came to say sorry," he mumbled. 

 

The sound of Terrance clearing his throat was loud in the small space. 

 

Ian looked up into Alex's eyes, which were displaying wariness of their own. 

 

"I-I'm sorry, Alex," Ian said humbly. "There was no excuse for my rude and boorish behavior in the restaurant and I apologize." 

 

Alex stared at him. Slowly, tentatively, as though he were afraid it would be bitten off, Ian extended his hand. 

 

After a long moment, Alex took it and shook it once. 

 

He didn't have to look at Walter to know what was expected. 

 

"I'm...I'm sorry, too," he said, looking down. "I shouldn't have done what I did." He paused. "No matter how I was provoked," he muttered. 

 

Walter cleared his throat. 

 

"Uh, anyway, I was wrong and I apologize," Alex added hastily. 

 

There was silence for a moment. Walter stepped forward. 

 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to come in and sit down? Have some coffee?" he asked. 

 

All three men noticed Ian's already pale complexion whiten significantly at the use of the word "sit". 

 

"Oh, no thank you," Terrance said again. "We'd love to, I'm sure, but we've got to get to Dulles in time to catch our plane." 

 

"Well, please look us up next time you're in town," Fox said, walking Terrance and Ian to the door. "Thank you for stopping by." 

 

"You're quite welcome," Terrance replied. "It was good to see you again, Fox, and to meet Walter and Alex. Come, Ian." 

 

With a sheepish bob of his head, Ian followed Terrance out to the car. Fox closed the door and leaned against it. 

 

"Well." 

 

"Well, indeed," Walter agreed, pulling Alex to him for a bear hug. "You did the right thing, Alex. I'm proud of you." 

 

"Me too," Fox said, wrapping his arms around Alex's waist. "I think we're pretty lucky he keeps us around, Walter." 

 

"Yes," Walter said, looking down into clear green eyes. "I'd say we're pretty lucky." 

 

Alex lay his head on Walter's shoulder, reached back and pulled Fox close. 

 

He was home. 

 

end 

 

Author's note: Ussuriyskiy Balzam is one of many brands of flavored vodka made in Russia and almost unknown outside of it. Apparently invented in Latvia before the 1700s, when Norwegian traders first began hauling it back home, balzam has it roots in Russian folk medicine. Each inky-black concoction is a blend of local herbs, berries, spices, roots and a hefty dose of pure alchohol. Other brands include Riga Balzam and Astrakhan Balzam. Ingredients vary as much as the Russian landscape, incorporating everything from raspberry, mint and chamomile to ginseng and red linden berries. (Source: Richmond Times-Dispatch, February 15, 2001)


	8. Christmas Trilogy VIII:  Tricks and Treats

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: Please assume all Krycek eps 

Disclaimer: Mine, not his 

Warning: Contains spanking, discipline, nipple tonguing, erections, gratuitous candy consumption 

Status: New/Series. This story is part of the Christmas Trilogy universe and follows "Red", "Green", "Gold", "Rainy Days and Mondays", "The Scent of Battle", "Licorice Whips" and "Late". 

Thanks: To my beta, HollyIlex, for never taking a day off 

Summary: It's Halloween and two brats are on the prowl. 

Dedication: To HollyIlex, a very belated birthday present. 

Thank you for everything. 

Note: Krycek has two arms.

 

 

Tricks and Treats 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Walter started down the stairs, intent on an evening snack. Hearing voices in the living room, he paused. 

 

"All right, a Snickers bar!" 

 

"Trade you for a Charleston Chew." 

 

"No way, Mulder!" 

 

"How about a Hershey bar, Krycek?" 

 

"No way, Foxy. Paws off my Snickers." 

 

Walter stopped and listened, unable to stop the grin that quickly spread across his face. He savored the sounds of bickering from downstairs for a moment, then put on his stern AD face and went down to see what his brats were up to. 

 

Walter cleared his throat, startling the two costumed brats who knelt on the living room carpet, surrounded by huge piles of candy. 

 

Fox and Alex leapt to their feet. 

 

"Walter!" Alex said nervously. "I...we...that is..." 

 

"Uh..." Fox added helpfully. 

 

They fell silent, fidgeting as Walter's eyes swept over them. 

 

Walter struggled to maintain his authoritarian demeanor despite Little Walter's stirrings of interest beneath his bathrobe. 

 

Before him stood two harem boys, clad in tiny gold g-strings and not much else, save a few yards of gauzy material that served as loose, transparent pants, emphasizing their long, muscular legs. Alex's harem boy pants were emerald green, Fox's sapphire blue. Each wore gold bracelets, their nipples were pert and rouged, their bare chests dusted with gold sprinkles. Walter's mouth went dry as Alex lifted his green eyes, heavily rimmed with kohl, and batted his lush black lashes innocently. 

 

Walter chewed the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. Damn, but they looked good enough to eat. 

 

You must not smile, Walter, he cautioned himself sternly. They are In Trouble. 

 

He let his eyes sweep over them again, taking in the single hoop earring each wore, the delicate gold chains around their waists. They hadn't missed a detail, right down to the gold sandals. The almost unbearably sensual effect of their costumes was only slightly spoiled by the plastic pumpkin each clutched in one hand. 

 

Walter put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow. 

 

"Gentlemen?" 

 

The harem boys looked uncomfortably at one another. 

 

"This is just a formality, of course," Walter said, indicating the heaping piles of candy, "but would you like to tell me where you two have been?" 

 

Shuffling their feet a little, his brats hesitated, then Fox cleared his throat nervously. 

 

"We...uh...we went trick or treating, Walter." 

 

Walter nodded and looked at Alex, who ducked his head guiltily. 

 

"Yes, Walter. We did." 

 

"I see," Walter said, sitting down on the sofa. He leaned back, settling in for the question and answer period. 

 

"And what did I tell you, just yesterday, when you brought up the subject of Halloween?" 

 

Another bout of fidgeting and foot shuffling, parried effectively by Walter with a stern look. 

 

"You told us we couldn't go trick or treating," Fox said, staring down at his sandals. 

 

Walter nodded agreeably. 

 

"Yes, I did. And what reason did I give you for this?" 

 

Fox looked at Alex. Alex, too, suddenly became very interested in his footwear. 

 

"Y-you said there was a local ordinance." 

 

"Yes, that's right," Walter prompted. "And what does the ordinance say?" 

 

Alex swallowed. 

 

"No one over the age of twelve may go door to door collecting candy on Halloween," he recited. 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"I don't want to rush to judgment here, gentlemen, but it would appear by the circumstantial evidence before me that you disobeyed me." 

 

Alex and Fox exchanged worried looks. 

 

Walter nudged a teetering pile of Tootsie Rolls and gummi bears with one slippered foot. 

 

"Well," he said. "Looks like you boys brought in quite a haul." He paused. "Putting aside for the moment the fact that you two went out in public dressed like that," he eyed the tiny gold g-strings meaningfully, "didn't the neighbors think it was a bit odd, two adults trick or treating?" 

 

Fox cleared his throat. 

 

"Uh, well," he said, his eyes darting around nervously. "We, ah, didn't exactly trick or treat in this neighborhood, Walter." 

 

Walter raised his eyebrow again. 

 

"Oh?" 

 

"Yes," Alex said quickly, his eyes wide and guileless. "We, uh, went someplace else. We thought that would be better." 

 

"Yes, better," Fox echoed, nodding emphatically. 

 

"Mmm hmm," Walter said thoughtfully, turning his attention back to the pounds of candy strewn around Fox and Alex's sandaled feet. "So where did you go?" he asked cheerfully, truly interested in the forthcoming answer. 

 

Alex looked down and mumbled something inaudibly. 

 

"I'm sorry, Alex," Walter said, leaning forward. "I didn't quite catch that." 

 

"I said, we mumble mumble mumbledemy." 

 

"What?" Walter said, his patience clearly wearing thin. 

 

Alex looked up, biting his lip. 

 

"Um, we went to the...uh...nurse's academy. Over on Sycamore Street." 

 

Walter stared at him blankly. His eyes traveled again over their nearly nude bodies, then back down to the piles of candy. He put his head in his hands. 

 

"Oh, please tell me you didn't." 

 

Fox coughed nervously. 

 

"It's okay, Walter. They were great, and once they found out how much Alex likes chocolate, wow! They really...uh..." he trailed off, noting the look on Walter's face, clutching his plastic pumpkin treat bucket like a security blanket. 

 

Walter looked up at the two miscreants. 

 

"All right, harem boys. Where else did you go? Out with it." 

 

"The...er...women's college over on Eighth," Fox confessed quietly. 

 

Walter looked up sharply. 

 

"St. Bridget's?" he asked incredulously. 

 

Two dark heads nodded. 

 

"Oh, Lord..." Walter muttered, his head back in his hands again. 

 

"Where else?" he asked, his voice muffled. 

 

"Um...there's a convention of female trial attorneys down at the Radisson," Alex said softly, one hand plucking at the leg of his gauzy pants. 

 

"And the League of Women Voters is at the Marriott," Fox added shamefacedly. He paused for a moment before adding brightly, "But the good news is, we're registered Democrats now." 

 

Walter slumped farther down on the sofa. 

 

"The Republicans didn't have anything really good," Alex said, nodding seriously. "All they had was apples and pepperoni sticks. The Dems had peanut butter cups." 

 

"Yep." Fox nodded. "Lots of them." 

 

"Then we went to the tanning parlor on Decatur and the flower shop on Maple, and—" 

 

"Okay, okay," Walter said, holding up his hands. "I get the picture." 

 

He sighed wearily, his gorgeous skimpily-clad brats squirming uneasily in front of him. 

 

"What am I going to do with you two?" Walter asked, shaking his head in amazement. 

 

"We're sorry, Walter," Alex said miserably, his soulful green eyes brimming. 

 

"Yes, we're sorry, Walter," Fox said sadly. "We were wrong." 

 

Walter stood up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. 

 

"Yes, you were," he said sternly. "Into your corners, both of you, and don't move until I come back." 

 

Their heads bowed, the two harem boys nodded sorrowfully and found their corners, their noses pressed against the wall, their nearly bare cheeks already clenching in anticipation of the punishment to come. 

 

Walter paused for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the two beautiful posteriors flexing beneath their gauzy coverings. He left the room, leaving his brats to contemplate what was to come. 

 

It was a good half hour before he returned. 

 

The nervous fidgeting that had been going on in the separate corners ceased at the sound of his footsteps. 

 

Alex and Fox waited, motionless, their hands clasped penitently behind their backs, their noses still pressed to the wall. 

 

"All right," Walter's voice boomed out. "You can turn around now." 

 

Alex and Fox turned and froze in place, their eyes wide, their mouths hanging open in unadulterated awe. 

 

"Oh..." Fox gasped. 

 

"Ah..." Alex breathed. 

 

Walter stood in the center of the room, resplendent in gold and jewels. On his head was an ornate turban adorned with a beautiful purple plume. He wore a short vest which was intricately embroidered with gold thread. He wore nothing underneath it, accentuating his breathtaking chest and flat stomach. His well-muscled arms were bare save for the beautiful heavy gold bracelets that encircled his wrists. 

 

He suppressed a smile as Fox and Alex's shocked eyes slid downward, taking in his own gauzy, blousy pants, tucked into polished black boots. At his side, anchored by a wide jeweled belt, was a gleaming scimitar. 

 

Playing his part to the hilt, Walter snapped his fingers. 

 

"I want my harem boys, now!" he bellowed, the very picture of a strong and powerful sultan. 

 

Snapping out of their reverie, Alex and Fox scrambled to kneel before him, their g-strings barely concealing the evidence of the effect Walter's costume was having on them. In unison, they bent low before him. 

 

"Well, well," Sultan Walter said, enjoying the view of two nearly naked harem boys genuflecting before him, their heads bent almost to the carpet, their gorgeous bottoms high. Walter chuckled. Even beneath the harem pants, he could see that those bottoms were far too pale. 

 

"My harem boys have displeased me," he said ominously, noting the delicious way they shivered. "They have disobeyed my royal orders. They have left the palace without permission and paraded themselves through the city, exposing what is mine to all. I shall have to punish them and teach them that they belong to me and that I must be obeyed." 

 

Alex emitted a low moan and looked up, his green eyes dark with passion. He licked his lips and squirmed, panting audibly. 

 

"Did I say you could raise your eyes, boy?" Sultan Walter asked, putting that little growl into his voice that he knew drove them both crazy. 

 

Alex quickly put his face back down to the floor, whimpering a little, but not in fear. He squirmed, trying to spread his legs a little to make room for his burgeoning erection. 

 

"Rise, my harem," Sultan Walter intoned, "and prepare yourselves for punishment." 

 

Alex and Fox stood, both obviously aroused, and followed the direction of Sultan Walter's pointing finger. He watched, arms folded regally, as they stripped off their skimpy costumes and bent over the back of the sofa, their bare backsides displayed prominently. 

 

Sultan Walter walked over to them and ran his hand possessively over the smooth white flesh. He grinned at the satisfying yelps he got as he pinched each firm cheek. Finally, he walked around to the front of the sofa and stood, waiting until the downturned faces were raised. 

 

Two sets of wide eyes watched as he slowly unbuckled the belt holding the scimitar at his side. He held the curved sword in his hands, turning it this way and that, as the light danced along the wide, flat blade. Two gulps were clearly heard as he raised the scimitar and brought the flat of the blade down on his palm with a resounding whack. 

 

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I think that will do nicely to remind my harem of the consequences for disobedience." 

 

Alex and Fox looked at one another again as Sultan Walter disappeared from their field of vision and took up position behind them. Dropping their heads down again, they each grabbed a cushion and hung on. 

 

"Move a little closer, harem boys," Sultan Walter ordered. Scooting toward one another, Alex and Fox arranged themselves hip to hip. Satisfied, Sultan Walter raised the scimitar, checking its angle carefully. "I shall give you ten swats," he said sternly. "Be sure you remember the lesson your Sultan deigns to teach you." 

 

"Yes, Sultan," two husky voices whispered, trembling with arousal. 

 

Sultan Walter brought the flat blade down across both bare bottoms, producing a most satisfying smack, followed by an equally satisying exclamation from each of the guilty parties. 

 

"Oooow!" 

 

"What is this punishment for, harem boys?" Sultan Walter demanded. 

 

He brought the scimitar down again, leaving a broad pink swath across the two beautiful backsides. 

 

"Yeeeeow!" That was Alex. "Ow! F-for disobeying you, O Potent One!" 

 

Decidedly noncontrite snickering issued from the region of the sofa cushions. 

 

"O Potent One?" Fox snickered. 

 

"I don't know," Alex hissed, jumping as the scimitar cracked down across their bottoms again. "Potent...potentate...it just came out!" 

 

"And?" Sultan Walter said, growing impatient. He added another healthy swat to the tally. 

 

"Ow!" Fox yipped. "Uh...for...for allowing others to see the flesh that belongs only to you, O Sultan!" 

 

"Very good, harem boys," Sultan Walter replied. "You have six swats left. Make sure you concentrate on the transgressions you have committed and resolve yourselves not to repeat them, or I shall visit my wrath upon your butts!" 

 

"Yes, Sultan Walter," his harem boys piped obediently. 

 

Sultan Walter spanked his harem boys briskly, turning both sweetly curved bottoms bright red with his scimitar. At length, he buckled the scimitar to his side again and summoned his harem to stand. 

 

Sniffling and rubbing their bottoms, Fox and Alex obeyed. 

 

"Well, have you learned that you must obey your Sultan?" Sultan Walter demanded. 

 

"Y-yes, Sultan," they said, their wet eyes lowered submissively. "We're very sorry." 

 

"All right," Sultan Walter said, opening his arms to his repentant harem, "come here, my pretty ones." 

 

Suddenly his arms were full of very warm and willing flesh as two contrite harem boys endeavored to work their way back into their Sultan's good graces. They kissed him, tongued his nipples, ran their hands under his embroidered vest, caressing him lovingly. 

 

Matters escalated and, still touching, kissing, murmuring to one another, the Sultan and his harem boys ascended the stairs, seeking Paradise. 

 

Fox and Alex quickly stripped Walter of his elaborate costume. Soon, all three were in the big bed, naked and eager. Alex and Fox lay on their stomachs, whining with need, but forced to wait while Walter gently rubbed aloe into their hot and reddened flesh. 

 

"We really are sorry, Walter," Alex said quietly, his head pillowed on his arms while he waited for Walter to finish ministering to his freshly spanked backside. "We shouldn't have done it." 

 

"Hush," Walter said, squeezing out more aloe. "It's over now and you're forgiven." He sat back on his heels. "But what on earth made you two pull a stunt like this?" 

 

Fox raised his head guiltily. 

 

"It was my idea, Walter," he said softly. "Alex never—" he broke off, giving Alex a worried look. 

 

Alex nodded at Fox, his eyes shining. 

 

"Alex never got to go trick or treating," Fox explained to Walter. "He never had a real Halloween. He was so disappointed when we found out about the ordinance. I just had to do it, Walter. I wanted him to have a chance to know what it's like." 

 

Walter's own eyes shone. He gathered his brats close to him and kissed them each lovingly. 

 

"I understand," he said, stroking their hair as they clung to him, sighing contentedly. "I know your hearts were in the right place, both of you. But you can't just go parading around in public like this and you can't break the law, even if it's just a local one." 

 

Alex and Fox nodded. 

 

"That reminds me," Walter said, "about all that candy..." 

 

Alex looked up, his worried expression almost comical. 

 

Walter's heart softened at the sight of his Rat anxiously awaiting word on the disposition of the sugary bounty downstairs. 

 

"You can keep some of it," Walter said with a smile. "But tomorrow morning, we're taking the bulk of it to the homeless shelter, for the children who never get treats." 

 

"Let's give all of it to them," Alex said, taking a deep breath. "We don't need it." 

 

"Are you sure?" Walter asked, his heart swelling. 

 

"Yes," Alex said, nodding seriously. "Let's do it, Walter. Is it okay with you, Fox?" 

 

"Yes," Fox said. "Don't want you to end up a fat Rat." 

 

Alex laughed, tickling Fox playfully. 

 

"Wouldn't want you to have to go running twice a day to work off that spare tire," he teased. 

 

"I'm proud of you both," Walter said, gazing at them tenderly. "You're going to make some needy kids very happy." 

 

"We know you had to punish us, Walter," Alex said trustingly. "Thank you for making it so..." he paused and grinned, "interesting." 

 

Fox laughed. 

 

"Yeah," he said. "Where did you get that costume? How did you know—" 

 

"Well," Walter said with a grin of his own. "Let's just say you shouldn't leave receipts from the costume shop lying around." 

 

His "harem boys" tackled him and smothered him with their naked bodies, exacting a sweet punishment of their own. 

 

The End 

 

Happy Halloween everybody!


	9. Christmas Trilogy IX:  Watch Out

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult for m/m interaction, spanking, discipline, language. If you are underage in your locality, hit the bricks, kid. 

Spoilers: none 

Disclaimer: This story is neither endorsed nor approved by Butterball, Perdue or Holly Farms. 

Warning: This is a discipline story. If you prefer white meat, now's the time to leave the table. 

Status: New/Series. Part of the "Christmas Trilogy" series, this story follows "Red", "Green", "Gold", "Rainy Days and Mondays", "The Scent of Battle", "Licorice Whips", "Late" and "Tricks and Treats." 

Thanks: To the girls at ST, to Elizabeth, Jose, Ursula, Peach, Belladonna, Emily, FM, hell, everyone I ever met. Love you all. Thanks to HollyIlex for impeccable British beta. 

Summary: Alex tries very hard to give Walter and Fox the perfect Thanksgiving. 

Dedication: To HollyIlex, for always telling it to me straight. 

Author's Note: Krycek has two arms. 

 

 

Watch Out 

by Lorelei 

 

 

It was the day before Thanksgiving and the supermarket was crowded with last-minute shoppers. Alex placed the celery and onions he'd selected into his cart and carefully marked the items off his list. He felt someone nudge him, none too gently, and moved aside for an elderly woman intent on examining the cauliflower. He heard an irritated grunt behind him and realized he had just stepped on the foot of the man beside him, an Asian gentleman who had been picking through the bin of fresh mushrooms. 

 

Alex muttered an apology and pushed his cart along, sighing a little in exasperation. He had wanted to check out the mushrooms himself, and carrots, he definitely needed carrots. Alex bit his lip and looked down at his list as he walked. He decided to move on and swing back by the produce department later, in hopes it might be less crowded then. He had to navigate carefully, threading his way through the throngs of shoppers, his hand drumming impatiently on the cart as he waited for the slow-moving customers to get out of his way. Alex shook his head. He felt a little out of place in his leather jacket and boots, amongst the people just getting off work, roaming the aisles in their business suits, and the young mothers shepherding their children through the maze of brightly colored boxes, bottles and cans. 

 

Alex managed to find a place along the wall where he could park his shopping cart and try to plan his strategy. The crowd continued to stream past. The supermarket's horrid Muzak system, which Alex had begun heartily to hate within five minutes of arriving, began to blare an instrumental version of Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs." 

 

Somewhere, a baby began to cry. 

 

Moments later, a second baby joined in, from somewhere in the direction of the bakery. 

 

A strident voice, definitely issuing from the garish bowels of the candy aisle, rose above the din. 

 

"Joshua James, I said NO!" 

 

Alex's hands tightened on the shopping cart handle. 

 

How in hell did people do this week in and week out? He'd only been there an hour and he was ready to blast his way out, if only Walter would let him carry something more lethal than a Swiss army knife. Alex sighed. He knew there was a good reason why he always avoided these oversized, overlit, overeverything places, and he was glad Fox seemed content to be the member of the household responsible for this particular chore. 

 

Except today. 

 

Today, Alex was doing the shopping, for a special occasion. 

 

He looked down and smiled for the first time since arriving at this bustling center of consumerism. 

 

A very special occasion. 

 

 

Early that morning... 

 

They were lying in bed together, cozy under the eiderdown Walter had just retrieved from storage in the attic. 

 

Fox and Walter were talking happily of Thanksgiving Day and the bounty of televised football it would bring. 

 

"Man, the Broncos and the Cowboys!" Fox said with a grin. "I can't wait!" 

 

"If you let the turkey burn like you did last year, you'll be eating your dinner standing up," Walter mock-growled. 

 

"It wasn't that bad, Walter!" Fox protested. "It just got a little dark on top. I couldn't help it, the Redskins were going for a touchdown!" 

 

"You were supposed to be basting," Walter said mildly, ruffling Fox's already tousled chestnut hair. "Not running into the living room every five minutes to check the score." 

 

"It's not fair," Fox groused, "why can't we move the little TV from the study into the kitchen? Just for the day? Then we could keep one eye on the game while we cook." 

 

"I told you, Fox," Walter explained, stretching and wrapping his arms around Fox and Alex both. "There's not enough room on the counter as it is, and if we put it on the table in the breakfast nook we'll have to stretch the cord across the floor and I don't want to take a chance on one of us tripping over it. Maybe if we both get up early on Thursday and get some of the prep work done, we'll have more time in the afternoon to relax and watch the game." 

 

They lay quietly for a moment, Fox pouting even as he moved closer to Walter, nestling into the crook of his arm. 

 

Suddenly, Alex's soft voice broke the silence. 

 

"I want to do it." 

 

Walter lifted his head a little. 

 

"Do what, Rat?" 

 

Alex leaned up on one elbow, his green eyes beginning to sparkle with excitement. 

 

"I want to cook the meal. I'll get up early, do the shopping, and then tomorrow, I'll take care of everything. I'll do it all. You and Fox can sit back and enjoy the game." 

 

Walter thought for a moment. 

 

"That's a lot of work for one person, Alex." 

 

"Yeah," Fox chimed in. "And...don't take this the wrong way, but, well, you don't cook much." 

 

Alex nodded. 

 

"I know, Fox, but I can do it. I really can. We've got all those cookbooks in the kitchen, and I can sit down and make a list of everything I need, so I can be sure not to forget anything when I go to the supermarket." He paused. "Besides, it's not as though I'm interested in watching the Broncos game." 

 

Walter laughed. Alex was an inveterate soccer snob, and his dislike of American football was certainly no secret. He had to admit, as much as he had always enjoyed preparing the Thanksgiving meal with Fox and Alex's help, the thought of a relaxing afternoon in front of the television sounded too good to resist. 

 

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "I don't see why not—" 

 

"Thanks, Walter!" Alex exclaimed. "Is it all right with you, Fox?" 

 

He watched Fox anxiously. 

 

"Well, sure," Fox said with a grin. "But, like Walter said, it's a lot of work, Alex. It just doesn't seem fair for you to have to do it all." 

 

Alex looked down, hiding a shy smile as he twined his fingers together with Fox's. 

 

"I want to do it," he said again. "You and Walter, I can't express in words what you mean to me, what you've given me." He looked around the room, his eyes shining with emotion. "Life, love, a home...you've given that to me, both of you. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I want to do this for you, to show you how thankful I am for you, every day, for every moment we share together." 

 

Alex felt Fox's hand squeeze his, felt Walter's strong arm tighten around him. 

 

"You've got it," Walter said softly. "If that's what you want, if it'll make you happy, then you've got it." 

 

"Yep!" Fox added happily. "You've got it. Are football snacks included too?" 

 

Alex laughed and kissed Fox, nibbling playfully at his full lower lip. 

 

"Sorry, you're on your own, my friend. I'll be busy cooking a feast for my two insatiable lovers." 

 

"I'll show you insatiable," Walter said with a growl, rolling over and trapping his gorgeous young brats under him. 

 

 

Alex smiled again as he crossed the next-to-last item off of his list, rather pleased with himself for getting almost every item he needed without killing anyone. 

 

He looked up at the overflowing checkout lines and reminded himself that he wasn't out of the woods yet. 

 

He eyed the contents of his heaping cart appreciatively. He'd charmed the girl behind the bakery counter out of her last three loaves of day-old bread, eschewing the bagged stuffing mix and insisting instead on doing it the old-fashioned way, or at least, what the cookbook had said was the old fashioned way. He had fought his way back down the produce aisle, wedging himself in between a thin, brittle woman yammering on a cellphone and a couple of college girls stocking up on tofu and sprouts. He'd emerged triumphant, carrots and mushrooms in hand, and had added extra celery and onions to the cart just in case. He had chosen generously from the bin filled with plump, glistening cranberries before hefting a ten pound bag of Yukon Gold potatoes and sliding it onto the rack beneath the cart. He had then made a stop in the gourmet foods section for some foie gras, hesitating only briefly before adding a small tin of caviar to his purchases. 

 

Walter would frown and say it was an extravagance, but Alex didn't care. He was determined that this was going to be the best meal his lovers had ever eaten. Nothing was too good for Walter and Fox. 

 

Alex checked the list once again. Rolls, check. Fresh butter, check. Pumpkin pie filling, check. Cherry pie filling (Fox's favorite), check. Pie shells, check. His eyes passed over the ready-made crusts guiltily, then moved on. He wanted to do as much of the dinner himself as possible, but making a pie crust from scratch? He wasn't crazy. Even a highly trained ex-assassin had to realize when he was in over his head. 

 

He folded the list neatly and tucked it into his pocket, giving it a small, satisfied pat. 

 

There was only one item left, and he set out in search of it, striding boldly along, head held high, the wheels of his cart squeaking purposefully. 

 

It was time to find The Perfect Turkey. 

 

 

Walter looked up from his newspaper as Fox went to the living room window again. 

 

"Is he back yet?" Walter asked amiably, turning the page. 

 

"No," Fox sighed, leaving the window and perching on the arm of the sofa. "He's been gone an awfully long time, Walter. Don't you think he should be back by now?" 

 

Walter looked up and smiled, seeing the beginnings of worry in those beautiful hazel eyes. He put his hand on Fox's thigh and squeezed gently. 

 

"Don't worry, Fox. He'll be fine. I'm sure the supermarket is pretty crowded. It is the day before Thanksgiving, after all." 

 

 

Alex shifted from one foot to the other, leaning on the handle of his cart, not bothering to hide his impatience. 

 

He had expected that there would be a crowd around the turkeys, but this was ridiculous. 

 

He'd been standing there for fifteen minutes and he'd yet to even see a turkey, largely because of Her. 

 

The Her in question was a round, matronly woman who had parked herself directly in front of the case of fresh turkeys, blocking almost everyone else, and had proceeded to heft each one and examine it closely, poking it and squeezing it, before discarding it and picking up the next one. 

 

Alex gritted his teeth and counted to ten as she sighed, shook her head, still unsatisfied, and reached a chubby hand into the case again. 

 

He could understand someone wanting to find The Perfect Turkey, especially since he was seeking one himself, but did she have to take so long? 

 

Suddenly, when the woman bent over to shore up a sagging stocking, Alex spotted it. 

 

The turkey. 

 

The turkey by which all other turkeys are measured. 

 

Turkis Fantasticus. 

 

It was easily the biggest one in the case, plump, round and mouth-watering, even raw and in the wrapper. 

 

Alex knew he had to have it. 

 

Suddenly, this vision of poultry perfection was obscured as the woman straightened up and began sorting through the turkeys again. Alex craned his neck, leaning this way and that, trying to see around her, but her drab brown overcoat blocked everything out. 

 

He sighed, tapping one booted foot, distracting himself by picturing himself at the table on Thanksgiving Day, proudly carving his succulent masterpiece as Walter and Fox looked on in awe. He smiled happily. 

 

The smile faded from his face as the woman's pudgy hands seized the turkey. 

 

The turkey! 

 

His turkey! 

 

Alex's breath felt trapped in his lungs. He heard his own heartbeat loud in his ears as she held the turkey up close to her face, squinting at the label. She squeezed it, turning it this way and that, nodding to herself. 

 

Alex's eyes narrowed, focused intently on the square inch of skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder. 

 

He smiled, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. 

 

It was not a friendly smile. 

 

If the woman had seen it, she would have undoubtedly dropped the bird and taken to her heels. 

 

Alex cocked his head, his jade green eyes glittering. 

 

He'd learned a nasty little trick one hot summer in Algiers. Just one little pinch, right...there...and it would be lights out. 

 

It wouldn't really hurt her, he reasoned. Those sacks of flour nearby would break her fall and she'd wake up in about ten minutes, which would give him enough time to grab The Turkey and- 

 

Aw, hell. 

 

Alex frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. His butt, seemingly determined to take over where his brain had failed, was beginning to tingle with its own version of the Early Warning System. 

 

Reluctantly, Alex waited, scowling at the woman's back. He knew what Walter would say-and do-if he knew Alex was even thinking about pulling a stunt like that. Alex gulped, not exactly eager to get another up-close-and-personal view of the carpet in Walter's study. He bit his lip anxiously as the woman continued to manhandle His Turkey. He held his breath, hoping against hope that something would make her decide to put it down and move on. 

 

His heart leapt as suddenly, she did. 

 

Apparently deciding the bird was too large, too expensive, too something, she replaced it, selected another one and finally rolled her cart away. 

 

Alex lunged for his prize before anyone else could. 

 

It rode next to him in the passenger seat on the way home, in a place of honor. 

 

 

Fox heard the back door open and wandered toward the kitchen, munching an apple as he did. 

 

"Walter! He's back!" he shouted over his shoulder. 

 

"Okay!" Walter called from the study. "See if he needs help bringing everything in, Fox!" 

 

"Okay," Fox said around a mouthful of apple, walking into the kitchen and nearly colliding with Alex, who was staggering under the weight of two very full paper bags. 

 

"Here, let me help you," Fox said, reaching for one. 

 

"No, I've got it," Alex said quickly, dropping the bags onto the counter with a groan. 

 

"How much more have you got to bring in?" Fox asked, craning his neck to see the bags on the back porch. 

 

"It's cool, really," Alex said, shoving his hair out of his eyes. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "I...well, could you give me a minute? I really worked hard picking the main course out and I want to surprise you and Walter." 

 

Fox smiled at the unusual request. On anyone else, it would seem fussy, if not downright strange, but the look of excitement on Alex's face made him look like an eager little boy. Fox could refuse Alex nothing when he looked like that. 

 

"I'll be in the study with Walter, trying to pry him away from his paperwork," Fox said with a grin, tossing his apple core into the trash with a neat overhand shot. "Hah, two points!" 

 

"Very good," Alex said with a grin of his own. "Now go, and I'll call you when I'm ready." 

 

"Okay, okay," Fox grumbled good-naturedly, ambling toward the study. 

 

A few minutes later, Alex poked his head out of the kitchen door and called to Walter and Fox. 

 

"Come on, guys! Come and see what you've got to look forward to tomorrow!" 

 

Fox laughed as he and Walter made their way to the kitchen. 

 

"You, hot and buttered?" 

 

Alex chuckled. 

 

"That's dessert, lover," he said huskily, licking his lips for added effect. "This," he added, throwing his arms wide, "is the main event!" 

 

Walter and Fox walked into the kitchen, where Alex had placed the still-wrapped turkey on the table. 

 

"Feast your eyes on this," he said proudly. "It's the best one in the whole store. I thought I was gonna have to fight for it." He snapped his fingers happily. "Hurry up and take a look so I can get him in the refrigerator." 

 

Fox nearly choked. 

 

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes bulging out. 

 

"Fox," Walter admonished gently, "you—" 

 

He broke off as his own eyes flew open wide. "Holy shit!" 

 

They stared at the turkey. 

 

It was the biggest turkey either of them had ever seen. 

 

"Oh my God!" Fox hollered. "It's the Turkey That Ate Washington!" He clutched at himself and began to giggle madly. "Are you expecting the Waltons, Alex?" 

 

Alex's happy face took on a crestfallen look. 

 

"I just wanted the best one," he said stubbornly. "It's big, yeah, but we can have leftovers! That's what you do at Thanksgiving!" 

 

Fox laughed until he was winded, then he collapsed into a kitchen chair, wiping his eyes. 

 

"How much does that thing weigh? Fifty pounds?" 

 

"Twenty-three," Alex said tartly. "None of the others came close." 

 

"I should imagine not," Fox hooted, breaking into fresh peals of laughter. "This one probably ate the competition! Leftovers! Walter, we'll be eating turkey until we grow feathers!" 

 

Alex folded his arms and glared at Fox. 

 

"Fox," Walter said firmly, walking over to Alex and taking him into his arms. Alex stood stiffly at first, then gave in, wrapping himself around Walter and burying his burning face in Walter's shirt. 

 

"I just wanted the best one for you," he mumbled again. 

 

"And you definitely got the best one," Walter soothed, rubbing Alex's back. "Fox is just teasing you." 

 

"Sure I am," Fox said brightly, patting the immense bird fondly. "I love ostrich...er, I mean, turkey!" He giggled madly. 

 

Walter sent him a look that clearly meant Enough. 

 

Fox stopped giggling. He stood, shuffling his feet a little, and then walked over to Alex. He waited until Alex raised his head, his green eyes just wounded enough to make Fox feel like a total heel. 

 

"I'm sorry, Alex," Fox said sheepishly, leaning down for a kiss. He pressed his lips gently against Alex's and was heartened when Alex slowly responded. "I was only kidding. I know you spent all day getting the stuff for our meal and the turkey is gorgeous. I know it's going to be delicious." 

 

Alex brightened a little. 

 

"Thanks," he said softly, glancing at the turkey. "I guess it is pretty big." He grinned. "So I'd better make it good, because we're going to be eating it til New Year's!" 

 

Fox gave him a playful swat on the butt. 

 

"Okay, you two," Walter rumbled, his eyes shining with love as he pulled his brats close and kissed each one soundly. "Let's get the turkey in cold storage and get the rest of these things put away." 

 

Alex rubbed his hands together eagerly as he inventoried all of the ingredients, then checked the cabinets to make sure all of the baking dishes, mixing bowls and measuring cups were clean and close at hand. He could hardly wait to get started. 

 

 

Thanksgiving Day 

 

Alex had been up since first light. He wanted to be sure nothing went wrong. It's just one meal, Alex, he chided himself. You're acting like it's the most important thing in your life. He looked out of the window, the early morning sun illuminating his face, and sipped his coffee reflectively. 

 

Okay. Maybe not the most important meal in my life. But a meal for the most important people in my life. 

 

It has to be perfect. 

 

Humming to himself, Alex manned the stove, whisking, sauteing and baking like a pro. He wiped his hands on the teatowel, checked the time, and took stock of what he had done so far. 

 

The pumpkin and cherry pies were cooling on the wire rack. The cranberry-orange salad was chilling in the refrigerator alongside two pitchers of freshly brewed iced tea. The rolls were rising, most of the chopping, mincing and slicing was done, and he had just finished cubing the day-old bread for the stuffing. 

 

The turkey sat in the roasting pan-he'd barely been able to fit it in-washed, glazed with butter and sprinkled with freshly cracked black pepper. Alex consulted the cookbook and turned his attention back to the stuffing. He added the sauteed onion and celery, a beaten egg and a generous dose of sage and parsley. He was rummaging in the drawer for a large spoon to stir it with when a line in the cookbook caught his eye. 

 

He read it to himself thoughtfully. 

 

"For a thoroughly blended stuffing and a perfectly stuffed turkey, one has no better implement than one's own hands." 

 

He thought for a moment, shrugged, then rolled up his sleeves. He washed his hands, dried them and plunged them into the bowl. It felt pretty strange at first, but after a moment, he was into the spirit of it, taking care to make sure all of the ingredients were incorporated. Squelching noises aside, he was surprised to realize that he was really enjoying himself. Using his hands to mix seemed so right, so sensible. He could feel the food as he prepared it for his lovers. He ducked his head and smiled a little, glad his old Consortium cohorts couldn't see him now. They'd have him in a frilly apron and pearls. He snorted a little. Yeah, okay. Make all the jokes you want. I'm in love, dammit, and that's all the excuse I need. 

 

The stuffing well blended, Alex sized up its intended target. He lifted the flaps of skin and peered into the empty cavity. Everything looked good and clean, ready to go. He rolled up his sleeves a little higher, took a generous handful of stuffing, took a deep breath and shoved it in. He worked quickly, packing the stuffing in, and though eager to get his hands clean and get the turkey into the oven, he had to admit, being able to feel as he worked made the job a lot easier. After all, he was trying to create the perfect Thanksgiving dinner. Getting his hands dirty was just part of the job. 

 

Alex slid the roasting pan into the oven, making sure the cover was on tightly, and treated himself to a single chocolate chip cookie. He was tempted to take a second but he held out, not wanting to spoil his appetite. 

 

 

As the morning turned into afternoon, the house began to fill with the heavenly aroma of roasting turkey. Fox and Walter sat on the sofa, cheering lustily as the Broncos scored another touchdown, Fox grumbling at "the popcorn diet" Alex had them on til dinner. He smiled as he grumbled, though, the happiness on Alex's face as he prepared their meal more than enough to make up for the loss of his beloved chips and dip. 

 

At last, six o'clock approached. The three men showered, making full and very enthusiastic use of their large shower stall, then dressed for dinner. 

 

As they came downstairs into the dining room, each couldn't help but grin at the sight of his two beautiful lovers dressed in their sexiest clothes. 

 

Walter wore charcoal grey pants with a crisp white shirt that showed off his healthy tan. The collar was unbuttoned just enough to show a mouth-watering glimpse of muscular, lightly furred chest. 

 

Fox was resplendent in chocolate brown pants and a cream colored shirt, his thick, silky hair styled just so. His hazel eyes twinkled as he and Walter looked at one another, then both raised their eyes to the stairs as Alex made his entrance. 

 

They couldn't help but gasp. 

 

Alex wore tight black pants that molded to every curve, every long, lean line of his delectable body. A sheaf of glossy dark hair dipped rakishly over one eye. His shirt was silk of the deepest emerald green, which perfectly matched his eyes, as well as the single emerald stud he wore in one ear. 

 

For a moment, they all just stood and admired one another, scarcely breathing, until Alex broke the silence. 

 

"I'd say we have a lot to be thankful for," he said with a smile, slipping his arms around Fox and Walter's waists. 

 

"Mmm," Walter replied, leaning down to nuzzle and kiss Alex's neck, "you're right, and after dinner, I'm going to show you both just how thankful I am. All..." 

 

Lick. 

 

"...night..." 

 

Nuzzle. 

 

"...long..." 

 

Kiss. 

 

"Come on," Alex said, laughing, tugging them by the hands. "Let's eat!" 

 

 

Alex stood, beaming, at the head of the table, the carving knife in his hand. He looked down the long dining room table, beautifully decked out in a cream colored tablecloth with a gold runner, lit with cranberry colored candles which lent everything in the room a subtle golden glow. He paused and just savored the moment. Everything was exactly as he'd pictured it. 

 

Walter and Fox, both so gorgeous, so happy, so proud of him. The table so beautiful, every plate, every glass, every utensil perfectly placed. The serving dishes strategically spaced along the table, each brimming with a different delicacy. The chilled bowl of caviar next to the plate of thinly sliced foie gras, artfully arranged. 

 

And the turkey... 

 

Alex looked down at it, truly stunned at his good fortune. Never having attempted such a feat before, he was delighted to have hit a home run his first time out of the box. The turkey was simply a masterpiece. Plump and perfectly browned, the crackling golden skin came away to reveal tender, juicy, pristine white meat beneath. Alex carved carefully, trying to remember the diagram in the cookbook, and soon the serving plate was piled high with the moist, succulent breast meat. He scooped out the stuffing and heaped it into a crystal bowl, rounding the top off neatly. 

 

"Okay," he said, a little nervously. "Dig in!" 

 

They ate slowly, leisurely, savoring every morsel. Alex was more relaxed than Walter and Fox had seen him in weeks. He laughed, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight, and glowed with pleasure as Walter and Fox exclaimed over the meal, eating every morsel on their plates and begging for more. The rolls were fluffy and soft, piping hot, and the mashed potatoes were an almost guilty pleasure, smooth and dripping with butter. The stuffing was moist and perfectly seasoned, and disappeared quickly, generously covered with Alex's light, savory turkey gravy. 

 

At last, it was time for dessert. 

 

Fox helped himself to a huge wedge of cherry pie. 

 

"Ohhh," he said, closing his eyes as he swallowed the first forkful. "Oh, Alex. You've been holding out on us." 

 

"It's nothing fancy," Alex said, blushing in spite of himself. 

 

"Nonsense," Walter said, already contemplating his second piece of pumpkin pie. "It might be canned filling but this streusel topping...I've never had pumpkin pie like this. What did you do?" 

 

Now really feeling like June Cleaver, Alex looked down, his cheeks growing redder. 

 

"Aw, it wasn't much," he said, unable to suppress a grin. "Just butter, brown sugar and chopped pecans. I thought it would make it, well, more special." 

 

Walter smiled rapturously as his lips closed around another forkful of the delicious pie. 

 

"Mmm, it is that," he agreed. "I'm so proud of you, Alex. You know that I was worried that this was way too much work for one person, especially someone whose usual idea of cooking is microwaved burritos. But you've truly outdone yourself, Rat. This is absolutely the best meal I have ever had, and the most beautiful night we've ever shared." 

 

Alex looked up, tears bright in his eyes. 

 

"Thank you," he breathed. 

 

Fox stood and walked over to Alex, leaned down and kissed him tenderly. Alex closed his eyes, savored the faintly tart taste of cherries on Fox's lips. 

 

"Walter's right," Fox said, returning to his chair. "This has been an incredible night. The food...us...it's all like a dream." 

 

Alex's smile felt like it would split his face in two. 

 

Walter pushed his chair back and patted his belly. 

 

"I think I need to let these pants out a little," he said with a wink. "Suddenly they seem about two sizes too small." 

 

"Me, too," Fox agreed, patting his own slightly rounded stomach. "I feel like I need to run about fifty miles to work off all this wonderful food!" 

 

Alex began to stack the empty plates, only to have the big man immediately hold up his hand. 

 

"Whoa! You can stop right there, Alex. You did all the cooking, we'll do all the cleaning." 

 

Alex opened his mouth to argue, then paused. He had been up since dawn, and he really was pretty tired. 

 

"What time is it?" Fox asked, gently piling the silverware on an empty serving platter. "The Sci-Fi Channel is running a Prisoner marathon tonight." 

 

Alex glanced down at his wrist. 

 

"It's—" 

 

He froze. 

 

Walter and Fox watched in surprise as all the color seemed to drain from Alex's face. 

 

"What is it, Alex? Did you forget your watch?" Fox asked, continuing to clear the table. 

 

"N-no..." Alex stammered, his eyes huge. 

 

"What's wrong, Alex?" Walter asked, concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

 

"I...I had it on but it's gone," Alex whispered. 

 

"Oh, well," Fox said cheerfully. "It's no big deal. I think we've got plenty of time before the show starts. When was the last time you remember having the watch on?" 

 

Alex stared at the turkey. 

 

Slowly, Walter's and Fox's eyes were drawn to it too and held there in horrified fascination. 

 

"You mean, when you were..." Fox began. 

 

"Stuffing the turkey," Alex finished sadly. "Oh my God." 

 

"Alex, it's all right," Walter said, seeing the miserable look on Alex's face. "If it's in there, it's probably fine. We'll get your watch cleaned up and—" 

 

"It's not my watch!" Alex blurted, his eyes fastened on the tablecloth. "It's...it's yours, Walter!" 

 

Walter stared at him in shock. 

 

"My watch?" he repeated in amazement. "You mean the one my father gave me?" 

 

Alex nodded, his lower lip trembling. He stared down at his hands as he spoke. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Walter, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...I was getting ready to come downstairs this morning and I went to put my watch on and then I remembered I'd left it in my locker at the gym. I wanted to be sure that everything was timed perfectly, I wanted the meal to be just right, everything planned down to the last second." He slumped in his chair, his head bowed sadly. "I grabbed yours off the dresser and just slipped it on. I didn't think...I just didn't think," he finished awkwardly. 

 

There was silence for a moment. 

 

Fox cleared his throat and flipped on the overhead light in order to see better. He picked up the long meat fork, peered into the turkey and began to dig around carefully. 

 

"There's a good bit of stuffing still in here," he said thoughtfully, poking deeper with the fork. "I can see how you might have...ah, I think I've got it." 

 

Walter and Alex watched grimly as Fox pulled the fork from the cavity and held it up. Dangling from the tines was Walter's watch, thickly encrusted with cooked stuffing. 

 

"I'm sorry!" Alex cried, clapping a hand over his mouth and running from the room. 

 

Fox dropped the fork and watch on the table and turned to go after him. 

 

Walter put a restraining hand on his arm, gently holding him back. 

 

"Don't," he said quietly. 

 

Fox looked stricken. 

 

"But Walter, you know what he's going to do! He's scared and upset and he's going to bolt—" 

 

"No, he's not," Walter said softly. He motioned to Fox to sit down. Fox reluctantly obeyed. Walter took Fox's hand in his. 

 

"He's not going to run, not this time," Walter said with conviction. "I know he's scared and I know he's going to want to. But after what happened last time...he's learned, Fox. I believe that. And we need to believe in him. He just needs a little time. That's all." 

 

Fox looked at the closed dining room door, chewing his lip doubtfully. 

 

"Okay," he said at last. "The look on his face when he realized...he was so happy tonight, Walter. And so were you." He picked up Walter's watch, holding it over his plate as he tried to scrape the worst of the stuffing off. 

 

Walter watched silently, his eyes on the watch that was the last gift his father had given him before he died. 

 

"I know how much it means to you," Fox whispered. "I think we can fix it. I've heard of this happening before. These old watches, they don't make them like this anymore. No plastic in this baby." 

 

Walter nodded and smiled a little. His heart hurt as he looked at the watch in Fox's hands, barely recognizable as the keepsake he had treasured all these years. He thought of Alex, of the pain in his green eyes when he ran from the room. He ached for his little Rat, for the special evening that had meant so much to them all. But the watch...that was a hard thing. Alex hadn't meant for it to happen, hell, of course he hadn't. But it was the only thing Walter had left of his Daddy. If it couldn't be fixed, it was going to take him some time to truly get over it. 

 

Walter stood and laid his hand on Fox's head, stroking the soft hair gently. 

 

"Thanks, Fox," he said quietly. "I'm going to go look for him. You'll get started in here?" 

 

Fox nodded, smiling up at Walter. 

 

"You bet," he said. "I've got it covered." 

 

 

Walter had to admit to himself a growing sense of worry as he moved from room to room, and no sign of Alex. 

 

He wouldn't, Walter thought to himself, peering into the living room and then climbing the stairs. He couldn't possibly run again, not after last time. He's learned now, I know he has. 

 

Walter paused outside the spare room, the one they kept closed off and unheated. There was nothing in there but boxes of Christmas ornaments and old clothes. Surely Alex wouldn't... 

 

A blast of cold air hit him as he turned the knob and opened the door. 

 

He stepped inside and gasped, his relief almost overcoming his concern. 

 

Alex was standing in the corner, his nose pressed against the wall. 

 

Naked. 

 

"Alex, Jesus!" Walter shouted, rushing over to him. 

 

Alex didn't look up. He stood, his arms wrapped around himself, staring at the wall. There were fresh teartracks on his face and he was shivering. 

 

Walter cursed and rushed into the bedroom, grabbing Alex's heavy winter bathrobe and hurrying back into the spare room. 

 

"S-s-sorry, Walter," Alex said, his teeth chattering. "I r-ruined your watch, and I ruined tonight, and I—" 

 

"Shhh," Walter said, wrapping the bathrobe around Alex and tying the belt quickly. "Let's get you out of here." 

 

Walter led Alex into the bedroom, pausing at the top of the stairs to shout down to Fox. 

 

"Fox! Come upstairs!" 

 

Walter bundled Alex into bed, robe and all, and covered him with the eiderdown. Alex turned and buried his face in the pillow, too ashamed to meet Walter's eyes. 

 

Fox appeared in the doorway, breathless, his eyes wide. Walter gestured toward Alex's huddled form. 

 

"He was in the spare room." 

 

Walter began to strip off his clothes and Fox followed suit. Once they were naked, they climbed into bed with Alex, one on either side. Walter tugged Alex toward him until his head was lying on Walter's chest. 

 

"Alex," Walter said softly. "What am I going to do with you? It's twenty-five degrees outside! Whatever possessed you?" 

 

Alex snuffled and burrowed deeper into Walter's embrace. 

 

"Sorry," he said again. "Punish me, Walter. I deserve it. The watch is all you have from your Dad and I...I..." he trailed off, unable to give voice to the awful thing he had done. 

 

Walter said nothing, just rocked Alex gently. 

 

Fox spooned up close behind Alex and rested his head on Alex's shoulder. 

 

"You didn't mean it, baby," he whispered. "Walter knows that." 

 

"He's right," Walter said, dropping a kiss on Alex's dark head. "I know you didn't mean it. I'm upset about the watch, of course, but, Alex," he paused and waited until Alex raised haunted green eyes to his, "I'm more upset about you, about how distraught you are over it." 

 

"It can be fixed, Alex," Fox added. "I'm sure it can be. I got almost all the stuffing off, and tomorrow we can take it up to the jewelers and get it cleaned and repaired." 

 

Alex nodded sadly. 

 

"Our night..." he said miserably. "It was so perfect—" 

 

"Yes, it was," Walter said firmly, "and it still is." Alex tried to look away again but Walter grasped his chin firmly and looked deep into his eyes. "It was a perfect night, Alex. And that's how I'm going to remember it. And that's how I hope you remember it, too." 

 

"I can't believe I didn't realize it was gone," Alex whispered forlornly. 

 

"You were in a frenzy in that kitchen," Fox joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I could hear the pots and pans banging all the way upstairs. It was just an accident, Alex, it could have happened to anyone." 

 

Alex bit his lip. 

 

"I guess..." he said, gazing at Walter regretfully. "Are you going to punish me?" 

 

"For an accident?" Walter asked. "Of course not. You borrowed my watch, and even though you didn't ask first, I see no reason to punish you. We share everything, and it's perfectly natural that, absent your own watch, you might slip mine on just for the day. You had no way of knowing it would slip off and end up in the turkey." 

 

Alex looked down, a little color coming back into his cheeks. 

 

He looked up again quizzically. 

 

"I guess we'll laugh about this one day?" 

 

Walter grinned and hugged Alex close to him. 

 

"One day, Rat," he said, kissing Alex soundly. "One day." 

 

"How about now?" Fox asked with a smirk. "Just think of the mileage I can get out of this, Ratboy." 

 

"Oh, no," Alex groaned, sinking down into the pillows. 

 

"Save it for later, Fox," Walter said, giving Fox a light swat on the rump. 

 

"Okay, okay," Fox mumbled, "I get the hint." 

 

"And as for you," Walter said, eyeing Alex sternly. "Are you warm yet?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex answered, his eyes wide. "Thank you." 

 

"All right, then," Walter replied, sitting up and flipping the bedclothes down. "You can leave the robe on, but lift it up and get over my knee." 

 

"Huh?" asked Alex, genuinely perplexed. "B-but you said you wouldn't punish me for the watch." 

 

"I'm not punishing you for the watch," Walter said, guiding Alex over his knee and tugging the heavy robe out of the way to expose Alex's bare bottom. "I'm punishing you for standing naked in a freezing cold room. That comes under the heading of endangering yourself, not to mention just plain foolish, and you know what happens now." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex gulped, clutching the bedclothes. "I'm sorry." 

 

"You'll be sorrier than that if you get a cold," Walter growled, lifting his hand. "Because as soon as you're well again, you'll be getting another spanking." 

 

Alex squeezed his eyes shut tight as Walter's hand smacked down authoritatively. 

 

"Ouch!" 

 

"Quiet down, Rat," Walter cautioned, "you've got fourteen more to go." 

 

Walter laid them down hard and fast, rapidly turning Alex's pale bottom bright red. By the time the fourteenth swat landed, Alex was sobbing and squirming. 

 

"Ow, Walter, ow, I'm sorry!" he yelped. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" 

 

"Good," Walter said, anchoring Alex firmly over his knee as he dealt the fifteenth and final swat directly on the sit spot. "Make sure you don't, or you'll be right back over my knee. Are we clear?" 

 

"Yes, Walter." Alex sniffled. 

 

Walter helped Alex to lift himself off his lap and to lie down on his stomach. Alex closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Fox got up, then climbed back in with the bottle of aloe. As Fox began to spread the cooling gel on his burning cheeks, Alex felt Walter stroking his hair softly, rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

 

"Love you, Walter, Fox," Alex whispered. 

 

"Love you too," Fox answered, squeezing out more aloe. "How does that feel? Better?" 

 

"Mmm, yes," Alex answered. "Better." 

 

Walter leaned down, rested his cheek against Alex's head. 

 

"Love you, little Rat," he said, his deep voice rumbling. 

 

Alex opened his eyes. Walter raised his head, caressed Alex's cheek gently. 

 

"I'm thankful for you, for everything you do and everything you are. Thank you for loving us. For sharing yourself with us. Thank you for tonight and for every night." 

 

Alex's smile was brilliant. 

 

"I'm thankful for you and Fox, too. I'm thankful every day of my life." 

 

Fox capped the bottle of aloe and snuggled in between them, turning his head first one way and then the other for a sweet kiss. 

 

"We all have a lot to be thankful for," he said softly. 

 

End 

 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!


	10. Christmas Trilogy X:  Red Hearts, Red Bottoms

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimer: I claim these hot and sexy men in the name of contemporary underground literature. I didn't invent Skinner, Mulder and Krycek, but I'm having way more fun with them than the last guy did. 

Warning: m/m interaction, discipline, bad acting. If you're underage in your state, province, kingdom or principality, scat! If the thought of two men together disgusts you, boy did you take a wrong turn. Leave while you still can. 

Status: New/Series. Part of the Christmas Trilogy universe. Follows "Red", "Green", "Gold", "Rainy Days and Mondays", "The Scent of Battle", "Licorice Whips", "Late", "Tricks and Treats" and "Watch Out". 

Thanks: To Ursula for fast and friendly beta. 

Summary: Valentine's evening with the boys, featuring one Very Sorry Rat.

Dedication: To the girls at ST, for encouraging me to archive this. All 4 one and one 4 all. 

Author's Note: Krycek has two arms. 

 

 

Red Hearts, Red Bottoms 

by Lorelei 

 

 

The back door opened and Walter Skinner entered, already loosening his tie. Fox Mulder followed, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, Alex Krycek, uncharacteristically chatty, brought up the rear. 

 

"Wow, that was some evening, huh, guys?" he said, tossing his own tie over the back of a kitchen chair. "Dinner, champagne, and then shopping for Valentine's Day presents..." He yawned, stretching with feline grace. Walter did not fail to notice the equally feline shake of the tail he gave as he headed for the stairs. 

 

"I'm worn out," Alex called. "Guess I'll go on up and get ready for bed..." 

 

"Hold it right there, Alex," Walter boomed. 

 

Alex froze. 

 

Slowly, he turned back toward the kitchen, his shoulders slumping slightly beneath his impeccably tailored suit jacket. Haltingly, he walked over to Walter and stood contritely, hands clasped behind his back, occupying the exact square of tile indicated by his lover's pointing finger. 

 

Walter gave his Rat a long stern Look. He noticed Alex's eyes dart quickly toward Fox and acted decisively to redirect the younger man's attention. 

 

"OW!" yelped Alex, both hands clutching his stinging backside. 

 

"Look at me, Alex," Walter said, hands on hips. "We have something to discuss, don't we?" 

 

Green eyes sought intimate communion with the kitchen floor. 

 

"Alex," Walter said warningly. 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex mumbled, fidgeting a little. 

 

Walter sighed and folded his arms. 

 

"Alex," he began patiently, "we've talked about this before. You simply cannot behave this way." 

 

"But, Walter," Alex whined, his lush bottom lip poking out ever so slightly. "I didn't do anything that bad, did I?" 

 

He blinked innocently, his thick black lashes sweeping over wide emerald eyes. 

 

Walter counted to ten. 

 

Twice. 

 

"Alex," he said again. "You scared that poor man half to death!" 

 

"But it's not fair, Walter!" Alex protested. "That was your watch! I picked it out over a month ago!" 

 

"I know you wanted me to have the watch, Alex," Walter said, a little more quietly. "But the fact remains that the other customer got there first." 

 

"The jeweler's assistant was supposed to save it for me," Alex sulked, stuffing his hands mulishly into his pockets. "It was a Patek Philippe, Walter. A special design, one of only four hundred fifty ever made. It was perfect for you. It took me three months to save up for it. And then we go to get it and it's just been sold to someone else. Do you expect me to be happy about that?" 

 

"No," Walter said evenly. "And take your hands out of your pockets." 

 

Pouting, Alex obeyed, his eyes fixed soulfully on his lover. Walter was in full alpha male mode, and although Alex's butt was already tingling with dread at its inevitable fate, his cock had not failed to notice the way those incredible pecs flexed and rolled under that crisp white shirt. 

 

"I don't expect you to be happy about not being able to buy the watch for me, Alex," Walter continued. "But I also don't expect you to frighten an innocent man half out of his wits simply because he got to the jeweler's a little earlier than we did!" 

 

"He wasn't too frightened to pay the man for the watch and take it home with him," Alex grumbled, then yipped as Walter, with one hand on Alex's biceps, deftly spun him around and landed two stiff swats to the seat of his dress pants. 

 

Walter watched his Rat gather himself together and steeled himself to remain strong in the face of the almost heartbreaking triple-threat he was now facing...sniffling, rubbing and pouting. The look in Alex's big green eyes was almost too much. 

 

No, Walter, he reprimanded himself. I know the last thing you want is to have to punish him on Valentine's Day, but right now, you need to think about Alex. He needs you to enforce the boundaries. 

 

Walter grumbled a little himself. Sometimes it wasn't easy to be the Top. 

 

"All right, Alex," he said, hoping to move the proceedings along so that they could all salvage something of the evening. "What did you do wrong?" 

 

Alex shifted from foot to foot, said something softly to the floor. 

 

"I'm up here," Skinner said, his tone brooking no foolishness. 

 

Alex looked up quickly and swallowed hard. 

 

"I...I guess I might have...scared him a little..." 

 

"You insinuated that you were a member of the Mossad, Alex," Walter said tightly. 

 

"Well, nobody's really afraid of the KGB anymore..." Alex mumbled. 

 

"ALEX!" 

 

"Okay, okay," Alex said quickly, a light sheen of sweat beginning to break out on his forehead. "Okay, I admit it! I scared him! I wanted him to think that I was dangerous and he should...should..." 

 

"Not buy the watch," Walter finished succinctly. 

 

"Y-yes, Walter," Alex gulped. 

 

"And that was wrong, wasn't it?" Walter prompted. 

 

Alex looked down, bit his lip. 

 

"Yes, Walter," he said softly. 

 

He looked up, his green eyes swimming with tears. 

 

"Please, Walter," he said, his voice trembling. "I...I know I'm a lot of trouble. I know sometimes I...I behave badly. I forget the things you've taught me. But I try," he said in a near-whisper. "I really do." 

 

Walter swallowed, feeling himself crumbling a little. Girding his strength, he shook his finger at Alex sternly. 

 

"Now, Alex..." he began. 

 

A sob escaped his young lover, who stood wringing his hands, obviously sick with remorse. 

 

"Please, Walter," he begged again, a single tear freeing itself from the lush black fronds that held it and threading its way down the center of Alex's cheek. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know I...I didn't have the kind of life you've had. I never had a real family like you and Fox." He looked down, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. "I know I'm not like you. I never learned how to be good. Not...not until you took me in, loved me enough to teach me. You took a chance on a...a Rat like me. A double agent, a killer. Someone who didn't deserve to be rescued, didn't deserve a second chance." 

 

He looked at Walter, beseeching him with wounded eyes. 

 

"Thank you, Walter," he whispered brokenly. "Thank you for loving me. For trying to teach me right from wrong. For b-believing that I can l-learn how to be g-good..." 

 

Alex broke down, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. 

 

Walter stood as if poleaxed, stunned at the outpouring of grief from his guilt-ridden Rat. My God, he thought. He's incredible at this. 

 

If Walter didn't know better, he could almost swear he heard mournful violins playing in the background as Alex wept miserably over his misdeeds. 

 

Walter paused. 

 

Wait a minute... 

 

He did hear mournful violins playing in the background. 

 

He spun around. 

 

"Fox!" he snapped. "Get away from the CD player!" 

 

Fox started guiltily and cringed. He edged along the kitchen counter, away from the small CD player that sat beside the coffeemaker. 

 

With a thoroughly disapproving glance at Fox, Walter stabbed the "stop" button. He held the CD up and scrutinized it. 

 

"The theme from 'Love Story', Fox?" 

 

Fox squirmed, searching his eidetic memory for the perfect response, anything that would stay the hand of justice from its path toward his hapless butt. 

 

"Uh..." he said, backing away, hands unconsciously plastered to the seat of his pants. 

 

"Corner, now!" Walter barked, pointing meaningfully toward the living room. "You know what to do first, young man," he added as Fox slouched toward the living room, already unbuttoning his shirt. A few moments later, Fox was naked, hunched sorrowfully in his corner, nose pressed to the wall. 

 

Walter turned back to his guilty Rat. 

 

"And as for you—" 

 

"I'm sorry, Walter," Alex whispered, bringing his hands together before him in a position of prayer. He snuffled dramatically, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks. "Please, my love. Please help me." 

 

Walter arched an eyebrow, waited. 

 

"Please help me," Alex repeated hoarsely, bowing his dark head. "I want to be good like you. I want to be worthy of your love, of my place in this house and in your heart." 

 

He sobbed again, the sound echoing sadly in the large kitchen. 

 

"Teach me, Walter," Alex begged, his eyes streaming. "Please teach me how to be good." 

 

Walter listened silently, nodding. 

 

"Are you finished?" he asked quietly. 

 

Alex nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. 

 

"Y-yes sir," he said softly. 

 

"Then consider school in session," Walter said decisively, reaching out and pulling Alex toward him. Alex squawked in surprise as, in one fluid motion, Walter divested him of his suit jacket, unzipped Alex's pants and dropped them along with his boxers to pool around his ankles. 

 

Walter pulled one of the kitchen chairs out from the table and braced one foot on the seat before hauling a wide-eyed Alex up and over. Alex now hung suspended over Walter's strong left leg, his bare bottom in the perfect position for a serious one-to-one discussion. 

 

With one hand on the small of Alex's back, Walter reached toward the utensil drawer just behind him. Careful to make sure Alex was secure and in no danger of sliding off, Walter rummaged through the assorted kitchen utensils, searching by feel for the perfect implement. 

 

"Ahh..." he said, holding up the object he had been feeling for. 

 

With an audible gulp, Alex craned his neck, trying to see over his shoulder. 

 

"Oh, no..." he whimpered. 

 

Skinner smiled a decidedly non-comforting smile as he admired the heart-shaped spatula Fox had bought as a joke the previous Valentine's Day. 

 

"I think this will do nicely," Skinner said, noting the pleasing shape of the implement. It also had a broad, flat end, guaranteeing good coverage. 

 

Walter paused for a moment to admire the naked bottom before him. Caressing it gently, he leaned down, closer to Alex. 

 

"You know I don't like having to do this, Rat," he said gently. "And you know there are plenty of other things I'd rather be doing to this gorgeous bottom of yours on Valentine's Day. But you also know this is for your own good." 

 

Alex squirmed and kicked a little, nervously awaiting the first swat. 

 

"Walter, I—" he gulped, clutching the leg of Walter's pants miserably. 

 

"Shhh," Walter said soothingly. "You know we have to do this." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex whispered. This time the sorrow in his voice was genuine. Funny, he thought, how he never really seemed to see things quite so clearly as when he was tipped over, staring at the floor, about to have a very clear reminder drummed into a very vulnerable part of his anatomy. 

 

Walter raised the spatula and brought it down with a resounding whack. It left a perfect heart-shaped mark on Alex's creamy white skin, right in the center of the sit-spot. 

 

"Ow..." Alex moaned. 

 

"Settle down, Rat," Walter warned, raising the spatula again. "We've got a lot to discuss." 

 

Walter began to spank in earnest, painting Alex's heart-shaped bottom red with swat after well-placed swat. 

 

"Ow, Walter!" Alex howled, clutching Walter's leg more tightly, wrinkling his best pair of dress pants. "Oooowwww! I'm sorry, I really am, Walter, I'm sorry!" 

 

"Tell me what you're sorry for," Walter said, not missing a beat. 

 

Alex gulped in air as the spatula continued its blistering assault on his bare rump. 

 

"Ow! I...I scared the man in the store! I intimidated him! I did it on purpose! I wanted to get my own way! Ow! Jesus, Walter—" 

 

"Very good, Alex," Walter said calmly, methodically covering the sensitive area just below the curve of Alex's buttocks. Alex's heartfelt yowl told him he was getting through to his naughty Rat in a very meaningful way. 

 

"I'm sorry!" Alex shouted with all the sincerity he could muster. "Please, Walter, I swear I'm sorry! I really mean it! I'll-I'll find the guy and apologize! I promise!" 

 

Like a metronome, stolid and implacable, the spatula rose and fell. 

 

Whack. 

 

Whack. 

 

Whack. 

 

"Shit, Walter!" Alex howled, unable to stop himself from bucking and thrashing. "That really hurts!" 

 

"I know it does," Walter said, not without sympathy, as he began to pepper the sit-spots smartly. "And why is that important?" 

 

Squeezing his eyes shut against a flow of hot tears, quite unlike the crocodile tears with which he had attempted to fool Walter a few minutes before, Alex tried to stay still and take it. He knew in his heart that he really had gone out of his way to earn this spanking. 

 

"So I'll learn!" he shouted, his voice rough from crying. "So I'll remember!" 

 

"That's right, Alex," Walter said, spanking with renewed vigor. "I love you. That's why I'll never let you get away with what you tried to do just now. That's why when you break the rules we agreed on, I'm going to make you face up to it, every time." 

 

"Yes, Walter!" Alex sobbed. "I know I was wrong! I know I was! I understand, I swear!" 

 

"But," Walter said sternly, hiding the pain he felt at the sound of Alex's cries, "we have something else to discuss, don't we?" 

 

"I...I don't..." Alex gasped, weeping openly. He was finding it hard at the moment to concentrate on anything beyond the flaming ruin that had been his butt before Walter Skinner got hold of it. 

 

"Define the word 'manipulative' for me," Walter said firmly, turning the tops of Alex's thighs bright pink. 

 

"Wh-what?" Alex choked. "I..." 

 

He slumped over Walter's leg, his hands over his face, wetness seeping through his fingers. 

 

"What I did just now?" he asked, his voice barely audible. 

 

"Yes," Walter said, not unkindly. He landed three more swats in rapid succession, making Alex gasp and sob harder. 

 

"I'm sorry I did that, Walter," Alex cried, hanging his head. Walter knew that this time, Alex was sincere. 

 

Alex knew, too. 

 

"I'm sorry, Walter," he repeated, bracing himself as Walter launched into the final set of swats, laying them down fast, five on each side. "I'm sorry! I tried to put one over on you and I was wrong and you d-deserve better! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." 

 

At last, Walter threw the spatula aside and stood Alex up. The younger man flung himself into Walter's arms and clung, his scarlet bottom peeking out below his shirttail, his sobs muffled against Walter's chest. 

 

Walter held Alex and rocked him gently, stroking his damp dark hair, whispering to him in Russian. 

 

"Love you, little Rat, love you..." 

 

Alex snuffled and raised his head, his eyes pleading, devoid now of any trickery, any attempt to elude responsibility for his wrongdoing. 

 

"Forgive me, Walter?" he asked, so trustingly that Walter's own eyes filled with tears. "I know I was wrong. I did try to...to use my background as an excuse...I did manipulate you." Alex looked down again, shaking his head slightly. "How could I have...that was so horrible, Walter." He buried his face in Walter's shirtfront again, the picture of utter misery. "How can you ever forgive me for that?" 

 

Walter gently tipped Alex's chin up, exposing his ripe mouth for a kiss. 

 

"I will always forgive you, Alex," he said softly, his brown eyes promising along with his deep, comforting voice. "I know you're sorry for what you did. You've been punished and it's over, little one. It's over." 

 

Alex's hands fisted in the fabric of Walter's shirt. 

 

"I ruined Valentine's Day," he mumbled sorrowfully. "I'm sorry for that, too." 

 

Walter laughed, tousling Alex's hair and pulling him closer. 

 

"You didn't ruin anything, Alex. We're all here together, aren't we?" he asked softly. "You and me and Fox." 

 

A lonely sniffle issued from the living room. 

 

"Come here, Fox," Walter said, holding out one arm. 

 

In a moment, Walter had his arms full of naked Fox and Rat, each trying to get as close to him as possible. 

 

"I think we have some unfinished business, don't we, Fox?" Walter said quietly. 

 

Fox looked down and nodded. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

Gently moving Alex aside, Fox waited for Walter to reposition his leg and prepared to bend over for his punishment. 

 

"Please don't, Walter," Alex said suddenly, his eyes worried. "Don't punish him. It was all my fault." 

 

Walter hesitated. He really didn't feel like spanking Fox. What he felt like doing was racing them both upstairs to the bedroom, taking along the gift basket from Boy's Toys that had been Fox's gift to them both. 

 

"My fault, Walter," Alex repeated. "Please?" 

 

Fox waited, his pale bottom clenched. 

 

"It's okay, Alex," he said softly. "I've got it coming." 

 

Walter looked at Alex, his heart softening. He'd planned on giving Fox a fairly stiff hand spanking, but Alex looked so genuinely anxious... 

 

Aw, hell. 

 

"I'll tell you what," Walter said. "I was going to give you ten swats, Fox, but only this once, I'll make it five." 

 

"Thank you, Walter," Fox said. 

 

Alex, still looking a little pale, nodded sadly. 

 

"Thank you, Walter," Alex repeated, then looked at Fox. "Sorry, Fox," he said remorsefully. 

 

"But," Walter added, eyeing them both sternly. "Tomorrow, Alex, you'll retrieve the dictionary from my study, look up the correct definition of the word 'manipulative' and you'll write it down two hundred and fifty times." 

 

Biting his lip, Alex nodded, already dreading the long dull hours he would spend hunched over completing his assignment. 

 

"And since you're getting off lightly now, Fox," Walter said, his hand poised over Fox's naked butt, "you can keep him company and write the same number that he does." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Fox said glumly. 

 

That said, Walter administered a brief but effective hand spanking that had Fox squirming and yelping even before the fifth swat landed. 

 

After Fox was been set on his feet, his tears dried and his succulent mouth plundered for a kiss by Walter and then again by Alex, Walter led the procession up the stairs, stopping to scoop up the gift basket as he went. Wrapped in purple cellophane, it contained a wide assortment of "toys for bad boys", as the card promised. 

 

Walter smiled. 

 

They'd start with the chocolate body paint. 

 

End


	11. Christmas Trilogy XI:  Learning the Limits

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult

Spoilers: None 

Disclaimer: Well, since CC wouldn't know a plot if it banged him all night, somebody has to give these poor boys something useful to do. The OC in this story is my creation and belongs to me. 

Warnings: Rated Adult for m/m interaction, spanking and discipline. If you're underage in your locale, go away. I mean it. If pretty boys getting their pert and lovely bottoms spanked ruins your day, do me a favor and don't ruin mine. I am impervious to lectures about the evils of domestic discipline and the general decline of Western civilization. Unlike the Rat, I really am irredeemable. 

Status: New/Series. An aside to the Christmas series stories, which are, in chronological order: Red, Green, Gold, Rainy Days and Mondays, The Scent of Battle, Licorice Whips, Late, Tricks and Treats, Watch Out and Red Hearts, Red Bottoms. 

Thanks: To HollyIlex for telling me a tale that took root in my fevered little mind, just waiting for a chance to work its way into a story. 

Summary: Walter teaches the boys a little history lesson.

Dedication: To all at ST for being there for me, every single day. This is for you. 

Author's Note: Alex has two arms. 

 

 

Learning the Limits 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Walter put the last of the lunch dishes into the dishwasher and glanced out of the kitchen window, smiling at the sight of his two young lovers working in the back yard. Both Alex and Fox had taken their shirts off and their smooth, tanned skin shone in the early afternoon sunlight. 

 

He nodded approvingly to himself as he watched them, feeling a flash of pride at the care they took, the way they helped one another. The new picnic table was really coming along. 

 

He caught his breath as Alex knelt down in the grass, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his white teeth flashing as he laughed in response to something Fox said. He looked young and innocent, impossibly beautiful. Alex handed a length of board off to Fox, who began hammering it into place, his denim-clad bottom raised appealingly as he leaned over, the spare nail gripped casually between his teeth giving rise to all sorts of lurid construction crew fantasies in Walter's mind. 

 

He chuckled. When he got them in bed tonight... 

 

He watched them for another few moments, then stepped out onto the spacious redwood deck that overlooked the large back yard, a smooth sloping expanse of green that led down to a rippling stream, the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley providing a magnificent backdrop. 

 

Walter leaned over the railing and shouted down to his lovers as they worked, a good fifteen feet below. 

 

"It's looking good!" 

 

Fox looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. He gave Walter a delighted little-boy grin. 

 

"Thanks, Walter! You really think so?" 

 

Walter nodded. Alex looked up from the two by four he was marking to be cut, tucked his flat carpenter's pencil behind his ear. His smile was, like this place, almost heartbreakingly beautiful. Walter felt his heart swell with love for them both, for this house they had bought, for the life they had made here in the peaceful, quiet foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. 

 

"Absolutely," Walter answered with a grin. "You're both doing a terrific job. I'm proud to see you working so well together." 

 

Beaming, his brats set to their task even more industriously than before. Walter watched them a moment longer and then went back into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. He poured two more, garnishing them with sprigs of mint from the herb garden in the kitchen window before carrying them down to Fox and Alex. 

 

"Thanks," Alex said, gulping down half his glass of tea all at once. "Mmm, that hits the spot." 

 

He stood and tilted his face up for a kiss. Walter obliged, taking his time despite Fox's good-natured whining that it was his turn now. Once both young men were refreshed and thoroughly kissed, he left them to their work, complimenting them again on the job they'd done so far and reminding them to reapply their sunscreen. 

 

"We put it on when we came out here after lunch," Alex complained. A sensual creature, he loved oils and lotions, the more expensive the better. But he always balked at the smell and the greasy feel of the SPF 50 sunscreen Walter insisted on when they spent any amount of time outdoors. 

 

"Well, you know what recent studies have shown," Walter said, pausing on the wide steps that led up to the deck. "Infrequently applied sunscreen can lead to a scorched butt." 

 

Alex reached for the bottle. 

 

Up on the deck, Walter stretched out in a chaise lounge, his glass of tea on the table beside him. Shaded by the umbrella that stretched over the table, his stomach full, his sounds of young lovers talking and laughing drifting up from the lawn below, Walter felt his eyelids growing heavy. Tossing aside the magazine he had been planning on reading, he folded his arms under his head and sighed. 

 

Life was good. 

 

He couldn't help but grin when he remembered the looks on Alex's and Fox's faces when he'd told them he wanted them to build a picnic table. Alex had merely gestured to the flyer from the local hardware store which lay on the coffee table with the Sunday paper. 

 

"We can buy one for a hundred and ninety-nine dollars, Walter," he'd said airily, reaching for the TV remote. "Why in the world would we want to build one?" 

 

"Because," Walter had said quietly, reaching over and clicking the television off. "It'll give you and Fox a chance to do a project together and you'll have the feeling of accomplishment that comes from building something with your own hands." 

 

Fox and Alex had looked dubious. 

 

"Look at it this way," Walter had said, "sure, we could go down to Lowe's and pick up a pre-made picnic table. And we'd use it and enjoy it. But it wouldn't be the same as if you made it yourselves. This way, every single time we use the table, you'll remember how you worked together, the time you spent creating it." 

 

Not to mention, he'd thought to himself, forcing the two of you to spend some time working toward a common goal instead of bickering. 

 

It had taken some convincing, and a couple of well-placed swats, but eventually Walter had been pleased to see that Fox and Alex were beginning to take an interest. They had indeed gone to the hardware store, but not for a pre-fab picnic table. Instead, Alex and Fox roamed the aisles, piling their baskets high with all the gadgets and tools they thought they would need. Watching their excitement build as they collected the equipment, selected the wood, and chose the paint, Walter felt a sense of pride. This was definitely one of his better ideas. 

 

Listening to them now, happily bantering back and forth over the sound of hammering and sawing, Walter smiled. They'll always remember today, he thought. Years from now, when that table is splintered and old and has about five coats of paint on it, they'll remember this afternoon, how they spent it together with the sun on their skin and the smell of the honeysuckle in the air. They'll remember that cool, sweet iced tea and how the beads of water on the glasses dripped onto their warm bare skin as they drank. They'll remember the rushing of the stream and the birds overhead and the love that we shared here together. 

 

Still smiling, he drifted off to sleep. 

 

 

The shadows were growing long when Walter was awakened by an insistent tapping. Sitting up, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He must have slept a good three hours! Well, he thought prosaically, better skip that after-dinner cup of coffee. 

 

The tapping came again, from the vicinity of the front porch. 

 

"Coming!" Walter shouted, tripping over the table leg as he rushed indoors. 

 

As he reached the front door, he hesitated. 

 

Oh, no... 

 

Peering through the screen door, his thick glasses almost touching the fine mesh, old Mr. Lazenbee tapped it again with his walking stick. 

 

"Walt!" he said, his voice cracking. "Walt! Y'all home or not?" 

 

"Right here, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, opening the door and stepping out onto the porch. "How are you this afternoon?" 

 

"Well, I reckon I can't complain," Mr. Lazenbee allowed, lowering himself down into one of the rocking chairs and settling into a slow rhythm. 

 

"Would you care for a glass of iced tea?" Walter offered. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee considered this thoughtfully. 

 

"Well," he said again, "I don't mind if I do. Say, Walt?" he added as Walter turned to go back into the house. "How 'bout warmin' that up a little, boy? Strictly for medicinal purposes, you understand. I got the rheumatism. Doc says he done all he can for me but he ain't got sense enough to come in out of the rain, nobody in his family does. Still, I get by. I like a little Lynchburg Lemonade once in a while, if you know what I mean. Loosens the ol' joints right up." 

 

Walter nodded. 

 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee. I'll be right back." 

 

Walter went to the kitchen and poured his elderly neighbor a tall glass of tea, reaching up into the cupboard for the bottle of Jack Daniels. He topped the glass off with a healthy dose of the whiskey and turned toward the window, wondering how Fox and Alex were coming along with the picnic table. 

 

"You comin', boy?" Mr. Lazenbee squawked from the porch. 

 

"Yes, sir!" Walter answered, the ice clinking in the glass as he hastily returned to the front porch. "There you go, Mr. Lazenbee," he said kindly, handing the glass to the old man and wondering what he wanted. 

 

Walter sat down in the rocking chair beside Mr. Lazenbee's. The two men rocked in silence, Mr. Lazenbee sipping reflectively at his tea. 

 

Walter resisted the urge to check his watch. It was getting on to dinnertime. But as the sun dipped a little lower and the shadows grew a little longer, Mr. Lazenbee just rocked on, chewing thoughtfully on the stem of his pipe. Mountain folk of his generation couldn't be rushed. Everything came in its own time. 

 

Finally, Mr. Lazenbee broke the silence gruffly. 

 

"Well, hell, Walt. Y'all know I'm mighty pleased to have neighbors again. This old place sat empty long enough." 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter replied respectfully. "We love it here. You've made us feel welcome." 

 

The old man leaned forward a little, pulling a small bag out of his pocket and filling his pipe with loose, aromatic tobacco. 

 

"Well now, that's why I come over," Mr. Lazenbee said. "Y'all know I got no quarrel with you. You're a fine man, been brought up right, I knowed that first time I set eyes on you." 

 

Walter smiled. 

 

"Thank you, sir." 

 

The old man was quiet for a moment as he lit his pipe. He turned in his chair to face Walter. 

 

"Now, I ain't got nothin' against your boys," he said, holding up a leathery palm. "Nothin' at all. They're real well-mannered and respectful." 

 

"Thank you," Walter said again, wondering just how much Mr. Lazenbee had divined of his relationship with his "boys". He thought perhaps the old man, with his Coke-bottle glasses and old-fashioned sensibilities, mistook Alex and Fox for Walter's sons. But sometimes Walter got the feeling that very little got past the old codger. 

 

"But dammit, Walt," the old man continued, irritation beginning to seep into his voice. "How many times I got to tell 'em to stay off my property?" 

 

Walter's stomach did a flip-flop. 

 

"Oh, no..." he said, dismayed. "Don't tell me they—" 

 

"Take a look off your back porch, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee crabbed. "For Pete's sake, they're over there now, trampling my tomato plants and Lord knows what else." 

 

"What?" Walter said, standing up and squinting through the screen door, trying to see down the hallway and out the back door. 

 

"Yep," Mr. Lazenbee said, puffing his pipe. "A couple nights ago I got the twelve-gauge out, heard something out in the yard. And there was your Fox, standing in my azaleas. Damn near gave him a butt full of buckshot afore I saw who it was." 

 

He's gonna get a butt full of something, Walter thought ominously. 

 

"And that other one of your'n, the one with the green eyes. Alan." 

 

"Alex," Walter said, his head in his hand. When he got hold of those two trespassers... 

 

"Yeah, like I said," the old man said, nodding. "Caught him down by my footbridge, crawling in the tall grass like an I-don't know-what. I said, 'what the hell you doin', boy?' and he come up with some nonsense about Fox had him looking for a choopercopper. I never heard the like." 

 

Walter raised his head. 

 

"Choopercopper?" he said, puzzled. 

 

He thought for a moment. 

 

He closed his eyes. 

 

"Oh no," he said quietly. "Chupacabra." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee sat rocking and puffing, unconcerned with Walter's distress. 

 

"Damndest thing I ever heard, anyway," he grumbled. 

 

"Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter began, feeling a little foolish. "I...er...well, Fox seems a little concerned about that cow of yours that turned up dead down by the stream." 

 

The old man looked up in surprise. 

 

"Buttercup?" he said around his pipe. "Aw hell, Walt. I don't know what kind of stories you city folk hear about what goes on up here in the mountains, but there ain't no such thing as no choopercopper. Buttercup crossed paths with a bobcat, is all. They come down out of the hills when they get hungry enough, and it ain't uncommon to lose a cow or a dog or even a child, if you ain't lookin' after 'em. I told your boy that, Walt." 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter mumbled, his face red. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee leaned forward, settling his hat on his head. He stood slowly and extended his hand to Walter. Walter stood as well and shook the old man's hand. 

 

"I hope there's no hard feelins, Walt," the old man said. "I ain't tryin' to be unneighborly. But your boy coulda got shot the other night. And they're traipsin' around down there in my south pasture, right where I lost Buttercup. That bobcat's more 'n' likely still around. There's a lot of undergrowth down there, old wells half-covered up, old traps around. It ain't safe." 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I sure do apologize, Mr. Lazenbee. I promise you, I'll get it sorted out and you won't have any more trouble from Fox and Alex." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee nodded, pausing on the front steps. 

 

"Well," he said with a sigh, fishing in his pocket for his pocketwatch. "I know my Daddy woulda tanned my hide but right for headin' onto somebody else's property without they'd invited me." 

 

Was it Walter's imagination or was that a ghost of a smile on the wizened face? 

 

"You know what they say, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said, stepping down off the bottom step. "Good fences make good neighbors. Y'all have a good night. Thank you kindly for the tea." 

 

"Good night," Walter answered, heading back into the house. Immediately, he went out onto the back deck. He leaned over the rail and stared at the unfinished picnic table. 

 

Fox and Alex were nowhere in sight. 

 

He counted to ten, then slowly went back into the kitchen and took the chicken breasts out of the refrigerator, started on the salad. 

 

He thought hard as he cooked. 

 

 

Alex pushed his chair back from the table and patted his belly. 

 

"Walter, you make the best teriyaki chicken this side of Tokyo." 

 

"Thank you, Alex." 

 

"And the roasted potatoes," Fox chimed in, a sated smile on his face. "Just perfect." 

 

"Thank you, Fox." 

 

Walter relaxed at the table, sipping lemonade and reading while Fox and Alex did the cleaning up. When they were done, Walter looked up from his magazine. 

 

"I was thinking it would be nice if we take a walk tomorrow morning, after breakfast." 

 

His brown eyes were warm and without guile. 

 

"Sure," Fox said, leaning down for a kiss. "Sounds great." 

 

"Yep," Alex agreed, claiming Walter's mouth the second Fox was done. "Who's up for a jacuzzi?" 

 

"Race you!" Fox shouted, long legs pumping as he ran for the stairs. 

 

Listening to his brats clattering up the long staircase, Walter took another sip of lemonade, turned a page in his magazine. Contemplated the matter at hand. 

 

 

"Ready for our walk?" Walter asked brightly as Fox drained the last of his juice and Alex popped the last bite of fluffy scrambled egg into his mouth. 

 

"Let's go!" Alex said enthusiastically, leaning over to tie his shoe and giving Walter a good view of his round butt, so enticingly sheathed in his tight shorts. 

 

"Grab us some bottled water, would you, Fox?" Walter asked. 

 

Fox handed Walter and Alex their water bottles and grabbed one more from the refrigerator for himself. 

 

The morning sun was high in the sky as they set out on their walk, Walter leading the way along the edge of the back yard, under the fragrant wisteria, its beautiful lavender bunches hanging just inches over their heads. 

 

They walked for a little while in silence, following the slope of the long back yard that led down to the stream below. Fox and Alex both wore open smiles, enjoying the springtime sun on their faces. Walter smiled too, but his eyes were troubled. Sometimes, he thought for the latest of many times, it wasn't easy to be the Top. He would have loved to have simply enjoyed the beautiful day together, without dealing with matters of discipline. 

 

A small sigh escaped him as he imagined the three of them completing their walk and returning to the house for a shower together and then spending the rest of the morning in the big bed with its cool cotton sheets. Imagined himself nibbling his way down Alex's long tan spine, dipping down to thrust his tongue into the center of him. Feeling him arch, hearing him hiss and yowl. Wrapping Fox's long legs around himself, watching those hazel eyes half-close, hearing his almost desperate shouts as he came...and came...and came. 

 

Sadly, Walter squelched that line of thought. No, he had a responsibility, to his neighbor and to his brats, and he was going to do what had to be done. 

 

Abruptly, Walter stopped beside a large fallen log. Easily three feet around, it had to have been well over a hundred years old when it was finally felled, most likely by one of the summer storms so common to the area. 

 

Fox and Alex stood, looking around, slightly puzzled. 

 

"What's wrong, Walter?" Alex asked with concern. "You tired?" 

 

"No, Alex," Walter answered. He put his bottle of water on the ground beside the log and gestured with his hand toward the fence behind it, overgrown with tangled vines. "Suppose you tell me where we are." 

 

Now it was Fox's turn to be concerned. 

 

"We're in our back yard, Walter," he said, looking at Alex with wide eyes. "It's pretty hot out here. Maybe we should go back—" 

 

"Fox," Walter said patiently. "I'm fine. Now," he said, pointing at the fence. "What is that?" 

 

"A fence," Alex said slowly, unsure what this was all about. 

 

"Very good," Walter replied, his hands in his pockets. "And why is the fence there?" 

 

"It separates our property from the neighbor's," Fox answered, grinning proudly despite himself when Walter's approving gaze fell on him. 

 

"That's right," Walter said with a smile. "The fence marks the line between our property, on this side," he made a dramatic sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating their own back yard, "and Mr. Lazenbee's property on that side," he finished, pointing over the fence. 

 

Fox and Alex looked at one another, beginning to get the idea that Walter had more on his mind than just a morning walk. 

 

Walter rested his hand on the fallen log. 

 

"This log is a good landmark. It sits directly at the halfway point of the eastern boundary line of our property. Not another one around here like it that I can see," he added, looking around purposefully. "Not this big. So it'll be easy for you to remember." 

 

"R-remember?" Alex stammered softly. 

 

Walter walked over to a young willow tree, a few feet beyond the fallen log. Eyeing the low branches expertly, he selected one and nodded approvingly, cutting it efficiently from the trunk with his pocket knife. 

 

Fox and Alex watched in horror as Walter hefted the slender, whippy switch, making a few experimental cuts in the air. The sound traveled straight up their spines and made their teeth chatter. 

 

"Walter.." Alex whimpered. "Nooo..." 

 

Walter put his hands on his hips and silenced his teary-eyed brat with his best AD glare. Alex swallowed hard and straightened his spine, clasping his hands behind his back. Almost automatically, Fox did the same, bowing his dark head, uncharacteristically quiet. 

 

Walter was pleased to see that the AD hadn't gotten lost on the way from the concrete jungle to the great outdoors. 

 

"Now listen, you two," he said sternly, and waited for two sets of bright eyes to lift and meet his. "You've been told repeatedly not to go into Mr. Lazenbee's back pasture or any other part of his property. He's been a good neighbor to us and we owe him the same respect. If he asks you over, that's one thing, but I will NOT have you—" 

 

"But the cow..." Fox almost shouted. "I'm telling you, Walter, there's no way a bobcat—" 

 

"That's enough," Walter said firmly, taking Fox's arm and guiding him over to the log. "I don't care if an alien spaceship lands on Mr. Lazenbee's north forty. We are all going to respect the man's property. And I've told you til I'm blue in the face how dangerous it is back there. What if one of you stepped in a bear trap?" 

 

Alex bit his lip as Walter beckoned to him with one hand, pointing at the ground beside Fox. Alex moved to stand beside his fellow miscreant, his butt already tingling with dread. 

 

"Wait!" Fox said, his eyes searching Walter's solemn face anxiously. He turned and looked at Alex, troubled by the misery he saw in those clear green eyes. "Walter, I...uh...it was all my fault. Please don't punish Alex. He only went with me because I nagged him to. It was all my idea. I deserve the switch," Fox finished sadly, "not him." 

 

"Well, it may have been your idea, Fox," Walter said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "But a partner in crime is a partner in crime. Alex knew perfectly well that what he was doing was wrong. Didn't you, Alex?" 

 

Alex nodded humbly, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces. 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

"And," Walter continued, "would this enduring interest in the paranormal have anything to do with the wild strawberries growing on Mr. Lazenbee's side of the fence?" 

 

Alex flushed guiltily. 

 

"All right," Walter said, somewhat sadly. "Obviously, talking has done no good. Now I'm going to have to make sure that you both learn the lesson and that you remember it. Shorts and boxers down, please, gentlemen, and bend over the log." 

 

Their chins already trembling, Fox and Alex obeyed. 

 

Walter eyed the pale bottoms sticking up in the air as his brats snuffled softly, their dark heads hanging low, fidgeting nervously. The log was the perfect height for Walter's purposes and he flexed the switch in his hands, not looking forward to what was to come. 

 

"I went through the Academy with a Brit. Fellow by the name of Poole. He told me about a very old English tradition called 'beating the bounds'. " He paused and watched as Alex and Fox exchanged nervous glances. "Every year on Rogation Day, the boys of the parish were led through their village and beaten with willow rods at important points along the way, so that for the rest of their lives, they would remember the boundaries." 

 

A distinct tremor ran through both of the naked bottoms on display. 

 

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Fox, Alex. But as I always say, sometimes the old ways are the best. It helped naughty young men remember the boundaries then and I think it'll work just as well now." He paused. "I hope we won't have to do this again." 

 

Having said that, Walter raised the switch and brought it down across Fox's bare bottom. 

 

"OW!" Fox yelped, instinctively reaching behind him to cover his butt. 

 

"Move them, Fox," Walter said patiently. "You're only getting five strokes at each point along the way but I can make it ten. And if you get ten, Alex gets ten." 

 

With a heartfelt whimper, Fox obeyed. 

 

Walter laid the remaining four strokes down hard and fast, leaving Fox choking back sobs. Beside him, Alex lay, tense and anxious. 

 

Walter stepped over to Alex. The switch cut through the air and laid a red welt across Alex's white cheeks. 

 

"Ow...Jesus!" Alex yelled. "Walter, that hurts!" 

 

"Yes, I know it does," Walter said solemnly. "It hurts me to have to do it. But you've earned every stroke. You and Fox trust me to set the limits in our relationship. I never forbid you to do anything without good reason, but when I do, and you break the rules anyway, that's outright disobedience. I've never tolerated that from either of you and I'm not about to start now. Is that clear?" 

 

Alex hung his head. 

 

"Yes, Walter," he said, his smoky voice soft and sad. 

 

Alex got his remaining four strokes and he and Fox slowly stood, their faces red and streaked with tears. With difficulty, they pulled their shorts and boxers up and went willingly into Walter's arms. They sniffled audibly as he pressed them close to him and dropped a kiss on each of their heads. 

 

"Love you both," he whispered. "Let's get this over with." 

 

Glumly, Alex and Fox followed Walter as he lead the way along the fence line as it dipped down toward the small stream that marked the southernmost edge of their property. The three men stopped, the younger two looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

 

"Um, Walter?" Alex said quietly. 

 

"Yes?" Walter replied, looking around for a suitable resting place for his brat's soon-to-be-switched bottoms. 

 

Alex studied the grass as he spoke. 

 

"We're sorry, Walter," he whispered, peering up at his older lover through a thick curtain of lashes. "We really are. We've learned. We won't do it again." 

 

Fox nodded eagerly. 

 

"He's right, Walter. We've learned. You don't have to switch us anymore." 

 

Walter looked at them, his heart heavy with the burden of the task at hand. 

 

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Nothing would make me happier. But what would make me happy is not necessarily what's best for you." 

 

He pointed to a boulder close to the edge of the stream. 

 

"Come on now," he urged gently. "I want to get this over with as much as you do." 

 

Slowly, reluctantly, Alex and Fox bared their already-striped bottoms and leaned over the boulder. Walter stood behind them with the switch at the ready. 

 

"The stream marks the southern boundary of our property, gentlemen. See to it that you remember that." 

 

Five sizzling licks across Alex's bare backside was enough to convince him that he would never...ever...forget. 

 

Fox gritted his teeth as the switch lit his butt on fire. One...two...OW, shit!...three... 

 

"Walter, pleeeeeease..." 

 

"Just two more, Fox." Walter's voice was calm but firm. "Stay in position, please, or I'll have to begin again." 

 

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Fox clenched his poor bottom, knowing it just made it hurt more but unable to help it. He took the last two with a loud groan. 

 

Walter helped them both stand and get their shorts and boxers up. He held them both again, this time one at a time, Alex in particular clinging and reluctant to let go, burying his tear-streaked face in Walter's shirt. Walter held him for several long moments, then kissed him. Reached for Fox, kissed his lips, his forehead, brushed away the tears clinging to the thick lashes that framed his hazel eyes. 

 

"Let's go." 

 

Fox and Alex trudged along, their blazing rear ends burning brighter at every stop. 

 

The old barn that marked the western boundary line. Bending over hay bales, hay pricking them through their shirts and the chaff drifting up into their noses. 

 

The switch cracking down hard, five times each. 

 

Hard to sneeze when you're bawling. 

 

The creaky old gate that opened up onto the dirt road running up to Mr. Lazenby's house, marking the northern boundary line. Two red bottoms upended one at a time over Walter's knee, braced against the bottom of the gate. The switch slicing the air, leaving a lasting reminder on what Walter's grandmother would have euphemistically called "the last piece over the fence". 

 

At last, two bedraggled, sniffling brats slowly climbed the steps onto the back deck, led by Walter, as relieved as they were to have it over. 

 

Standing in the cool kitchen, the late morning sunlight streaming through the window, Walter looked Fox and Alex over, feeling his heart go out to them in spite of himself. 

 

Their faces red, their hair tousled, their eyelashes sparkling with tears, they looked like someone had crumpled them up and thrown them down. Alex looked at the floor, his hands twisting nervously in front of him. Fox chewed his lip, unable to resist the need to rub his stinging backside. 

 

Alex looked up, his face the picture of abject misery. 

 

"Sorry, Walter," he whispered contritely. "I'm really sorry." 

 

"I know, Rat," Walter said with a smile. "Come here." 

 

With a cry, Alex dove into Walter's arms, snuggling close, the tension draining from his body at the feeling of those strong forgiving arms around him. 

 

Walter kissed Alex gently and smoothed his hair back out of his eyes. 

 

"I love you," he said softly, his deep voice like a soothing balm. "I know you're sorry for what you did and I know you'll do better from now on." 

 

Fox stepped forward. It was harder for him sometimes, even more so than Alex, to admit a punishment was justly earned and given. 

 

"S-sorry," he managed, and ducked his head. Walter cupped Fox's chin in his hand, raising the handsome face, kissing away the renewed flow of tears. 

 

"I know, Fox," Walter said quietly. "I know you've learned. I know you won't do it again." 

 

Fox wrapped his arms around Walter, his tears wetting Walter's shirtfront. Walter stroked the chestnut hair, rocked him gently. 

 

"Now," Walter said, giving Fox one more soft kiss before releasing him. "Why don't you two go upstairs and get showered. Change into some sweats, something loose and comfortable. I'll be here waiting for you." 

 

Fox and Alex seemed unwilling to go, needing the reassurance of Walter's presence, his touch, his voice. Many more kisses and soft words were needed before they slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, their arms around one another's shoulders, to wash each other clean. 

 

 

Walter was waiting, as promised, in the kitchen when his brats descended the stairs, clad in identical soft grey sweatpants and dark blue T-shirts, white socks on their feet. 

 

They eyed the legal pads and brand-new pens laid out on the otherwise pristine kitchen table with revulsion. 

 

Their outlook did not improve as Walter pulled out two of the hard wooden chairs, from which the soft cushions had been removed, and beckoned to them. 

 

Their lips were arranged in a familiar fashion, Walter observed silently, in what a vigilant Top could certainly construe as a pout. Still, his brats were most of the way through a tough punishment and they'd taken it well, all things considered. He didn't envy them the afternoon ahead. 

 

He'd allow the pouting. 

 

"All right, Alex and Fox," Walter said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You can start with writing a sincere letter of apology to Mr. Lazenbee. And print in large block letters because you know he doesn't see too well. I'm inviting him to dinner tomorrow night. You can give them to him then, right after you finish apologizing in person." 

 

"Yes, sir," two soft voices sounded in unison. 

 

"And when you're done with that," Walter continued, "you will write the following—go ahead and jot this down, please—'The fallen log by the fence marks the Eastern boundary of our property. The boulder by the stream marks the Southern boundary of our property. The old barn marks the Western boundary of our property. The gate marks the Northern boundary of our property." 

 

Two pens scratched morosely on the yellow lined paper. 

 

"I'll have that a thousand times from each of you, please, and neatly. That should keep you busy for the afternoon." 

 

"Yes, sir." Softer than before. 

 

Walter opened the refrigerator and began taking out leftover chicken for chicken salad sandwiches. He opened the cabinet and made sure Fox's favorite chips and Alex's favorite cookies were in ample supply. 

 

"You can stop when lunch is ready but I want you both back at work after." 

 

"Yes, Walter." 

 

The large, airy kitchen was full of the sounds of the birds singing outside, the sound of pens on paper as two dark heads bent over their writing assignment, and the soothing, methodical sound of Walter slicing onions and celery. 

 

Walter paused and looked out through the kitchen window at the beautiful piece of Virginia countryside that had become the sanctuary all three had so long sought. The journey to this peaceful hidden place had been long and hard. But they were here, and they were together. 

 

Smiling, he looked down, got back to his chopping. 

 

He, too, knew the bounds by heart.


	12. Christmas Trilogy XII:  Recipe for Trouble

Pairing: Skinner/Mulder/Krycek

Rating: Adult for spanking, discipline, language, m/m interaction. If you're underage in your neck of the woods, hit the bricks, kid.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: The characters of Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek are the property of Fox and 1013 Productions. All OCs in this story are my creations and belong to me.

Warnings: This is a discipline story. If spanking and other forms of domestic discipline are not your thing, your Tupperware parties must not be any fun at all! Go and read something else, dear.

Status: New/Series. Part of the Christmas Trilogy Universe. Follows Learning the Limits.

Thanks: To Elizabeth, for repeated readings, input and cheerleading. To Josan, as always, my teacher and friend, for wise and wonderful beta on short notice, and to Ursula, fairy godmother, mentor, and extremely patient birthday girl.

Summary: Nope! Ain't tellin'! *g*

Dedication: To Ursula, a late birthday gift.

Author's Note: See, Gaby? I finally finished it! 

Author's Other Note: Alex has two arms.

 

 

Recipe for Trouble 

by Lorelei 

 

 

Walter leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee reflectively, contemplating the view through the big kitchen window. The early morning sun shone down on the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley. The surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains were resplendent in all their late October glory, proudly displaying brilliant hues of red and gold as bright and crisp as the cool Autumn air itself. 

 

Fox and Alex came padding into the large, airy kitchen, wrapped in their bathrobes, their hair still damp from their shower. Their bright eyes and flushed cheeks suggested that they had gotten more than clean during their morning ablutions. Walter put his coffee cup down, unable to resist a grin at the sight of his two freshly scrubbed young lovers. For the millionth time, he congratulated himself on his foresight. During the renovation of the old farmhouse, Walter had insisted that the contractor install the largest shower unit commercially available. Remembering the look on the man's face never failed to raise a smile. Neither did the many happy hours he and his lovers had spent in the shower unit since. 

 

"Come here, you two," Walter mock-growled, gathering them into his arms. They smelled heavenly, a combination of almond soap and clean bare skin. "Something tells me you just used every drop of hot water in the valley." 

 

"We got a little...distracted," Alex purred, tilting his face up for a kiss, his green bathrobe making his emerald eyes even more vivid under his shining cap of damp black hair. 

 

"Yeah," Fox breathed, nuzzling Walter's neck, his chestnut hair cool against Walter's skin. His blue bathrobe fell open a little, exposing his smooth chest. "But it wasn't as much fun without you." 

 

Walter laughed, meting out a light swat each to two firm, cotton-swathed bottoms. "I've been up for hours. We've got a busy day ahead. Besides, someone has to get breakfast ready." 

 

Alex shrugged and opened the refrigerator. 

 

"I took my turn yesterday," he protested, casually fishing out an ice-cold can of Coke from behind the carafe of fresh-squeezed orange juice. 

 

"Krispy Kreme donuts are not breakfast," Walter said, crossing the room and removing the red and white can from Alex's hand. He returned it to its place in the refrigerator, took out the carafe of orange juice and handed it to Alex along with two empty glasses. Wordlessly, he pointed to the kitchen table. Alex risked a pout but followed along behind Fox in the direction of Walter's pointing finger. 

 

Once Alex and Fox were comfortably seated at the table, sipping their orange juice, Walter reached for the cutting board, smiling over his shoulder as he did. 

 

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." 

 

He peeled a banana and began slicing it, adding the slices to the glass bowl which already contained berries and sliced melon. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a tapping at the back door. Walter walked over to it and looked out through the glass. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee's eyes, magnified behind his thick glasses, peered back at him through the window. 

 

"Walt!" the old man shouted. "Y'all home?" 

 

Walter couldn't see the looks on his brats' faces but, just like any experienced Top, he didn't need to. 

 

"Behave," he warned, his alpha male rumble making Alex's and Fox's spines straighten immediately. They exchanged a look of mutual dread but busied themselves with their juice. 

 

Walter opened the door and Mr. Lazenbee walked in, leaning on his walking stick. He took off his hat, handing it to Walter. 

 

"Mornin', boys," the old man said gruffly. 

 

"Good morning, Mr. Lazenbee," the three men responded in unison, sounding like schoolboys reciting. Alex and Fox had to hide their grins behind their juice glasses. It wasn't often that they got to hear anyone call Walter "boy". 

 

"Thought you all were helping me out today," Mr. Lazenbee grumbled. 

 

"Well...uh, yes, we are," Walter said, glancing at his watch. "But it's only eight o'clock. We haven't had breakfast yet." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee leaned on his walking stick, giving the three men a disapproving look. 

 

"Great day in the mornin', boy! Why, when I was your age I'da had the cows milked, the hogs slopped and three acres of hay baled." He chuckled, chewing on the stem of his unlit pipe. "You city folk. Ya'll sure are a caution, lollygaggin' in bed 'til all hours." 

 

Walter clasped his hands behind his back, giving Alex and Fox a warning look as they chewed their lips to keep from smiling at his consternation. He sighed. Walter had been raised to respect his elders and Mr. Lazenbee always managed to make him feel about ten years old. 

 

"Well, sir, we do take it a little easier on Saturday," Walter agreed, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. "Won't you please sit and have breakfast with us? Then Fox and Alex will come next door and get started on those chores you need help with." 

 

Fox and Alex were no longer fighting to hide smiles. They radiated misery at Walter. He raised an cautioning eyebrow at them and they settled, shoulders slumped in resignation. Mr. Lazenbee took the proffered chair and sat down heavily, leaning his walking stick against the table. 

 

"Well now," Mr. Lazenbee allowed, "I reckon I don't mind if I do. Been a while since that piece of pie I had this mornin'." 

 

Alex choked on his juice. Fox pounded him helpfully on the back. 

 

"Pie?" Alex finally managed to gasp. "Pie for breakfast? Wow, Walter, wouldn't that be...uh..." He trailed off under Walter's withering gaze. 

 

"Naw, that won't breakfast, boy," Mr. Lazenbee said, "just a little something to get my heart started. Mrs. Rowe down to the Ladies' Auxiliary brings me a pie just about every week. She's a fair cook but nothin' like my Viola was, God rest her. She brung me pecan this time and I thanked her most to death but," the old man leaned forward conspiratorially, "just between you and me and the lamppost, I'm partial to chocolate." 

 

Alex nodded. 

 

"Me too," he said enthusiastically. "But Walter thinks—" 

 

"Walter thinks Mr. Lazenbee might like a cup of coffee while he's waiting for his breakfast," Walter interjected cheerfully, placing a steaming mug in front of their guest. 

 

"Thank you kindly," Mr. Lazenbee said. "I reckon I wouldn't mind a little somethin' to chase the chill outta these old bones." He picked up the mug and took a sip. Scowling, he set it back down on the table and tapped the rim with a bony finger. "Walt!" he snapped, his old man's voice cracking, "I said my bones was chilled!" 

 

Walter paused and closed his eyes. After a moment, his head bowed in defeat, he went to the cabinet and took down the bottle of Jack Daniels. Ignoring the amazed look on his brats' faces, he unscrewed the cap and poured a generous dollop of whiskey into Mr. Lazenbee's mug. Mr. Lazenbee nodded, raised the mug again and took a long, approving sip. 

 

"Now that's more like it," he said, then glanced up at Walter. "Where's that breakfast you was talkin' about, boy? A body could waste away to nothin' around here." 

 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said wearily, turning to the stove. "Coming right up." 

 

Turning in his chair, Mr. Lazenbee watched for a few moments as Walter busied himself slicing bananas. Finally, unable to stand the curiosity any longer, the old man hoisted himself up out of the chair and creaked over to Walter, staring over his shoulder in disbelief. 

 

"What in tarnation, boy?" he queried, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. "Thought you said you was fixin' breakfast." 

 

Walter stopped slicing and looked at Mr. Lazenbee in surprise. 

 

"Well...well, yes, sir," he said, confused. He gestured to the food laid out on the counter before him, pointing to each item as he spoke. "Fresh fruit, whole wheat toast, turkey bacon and scrambled egg substitute." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee's eyes bugged. 

 

"Well, I'll be," he said in amazement, his hands on his hips. "That's what you all call breakfast?" 

 

Walter looked at Mr. Lazenbee, then back at the food. 

 

"I—" 

 

"Shoot fire, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee cackled. "No wonder y'all cain't get outta bed in the mornin'! That ain't no kind of meal, lessen you're one of them soopermodels. Y'all need a man's meal, somethin' that sticks to your ribs!" He thumped his abdomen for effect. 

 

"I...uh..." Walter stammered, at a loss for words. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee looked at Walter and shook his finger sternly. 

 

"Now, you cain't expect these here boys," he gestured to Alex and Fox, "to work hard all day without a decent meal in their bellies." 

 

Alex and Fox sat blinking at Walter, their hands in their laps, the very picture of innocence. 

 

His cheeks flushing red, Walter tried to take back control of his kitchen. 

 

"Now, uh, Mr. Lazenbee," he began, holding up his hands placatingly, "we eat this food all the time and there's nothing wrong with it. It's very healthful. Besides, Fox and Alex like turkey bacon and fresh fruit, don't you, boys?" 

 

Alex and Fox were suddenly very interested in the tabletop. 

 

Walter coughed. 

 

"Oh yes, we...ah...we love it." Fox managed unconvincingly. 

 

"Yep, can't get enough," Alex said, his eyes locked wistfully on the box of donuts on the counter next to the refrigerator. 

 

"Hogwash!" Mr. Lazenbee said. "Ya'll need a good old-fashioned Southern breakfast and I'm gonna see to it that you get it." 

 

"Mr. Lazenbee, really," Walter attempted, gesturing toward Mr. Lazenbee's abandoned chair. "If you'll just have a seat, I'm sure I can find something you'll..." 

 

He trailed off as Mr. Lazenbee reached the laundry room, reached inside and grabbed his hat off of the rack. He settled it firmly on his head and opened the back door. 

 

"You just put that mess away, Walt," the old man admonished, walking stick in hand. "I'll be back in a jiffy, show you city boys what good eatin' is all about." 

 

With that, he was gone, his walking stick clacking along the redwood deck as he went. 

 

Walter leaned against the counter, his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up at Alex and Fox, who were grinning shamelessly at his distress. 

 

"Thanks for backing me up, you two," Walter said, giving them a reproachful look. 

 

"Sorry, Walter," Fox said with a shrug. "Fighting the future is one thing. Fighting Mr. Lazenbee is something else entirely." 

 

"He's right," Alex said. "I'm sorry, too, Walter, but," he added with a mischievious grin, "I guess it's resist or be served." 

 

"Very funny," Walter said, giving Alex a stern look as he covered the fruit bowl with cling film and wrapped up the turkey bacon. "We'll have this tomorrow. In the meantime, we just have to be mindful of Mr. Lazenbee's age and be polite. Whatever he cooks, just eat a little and remember to thank him." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox said obediently. 

 

A few minutes later, the back door opened and Mr. Lazenbee reappeared, a large paper bag in one hand. 

 

"Here, let me help you with that," Walter said, hurrying to take the bag from Mr. Lazenbee. He put the bag on the counter and started to open it. 

 

"Get on away from there, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee grouched, swatting Walter across the backside with his walking stick. Walter jumped and clapped both hands on his rear, his mouth dropping open in an almost comical expression of surprise. Alex and Fox gasped and then burst out laughing. A thunderous look from Walter silenced them, except for the occasional titter. 

 

"Are you sure I can't help you, Mr. Lazenbee?" Walter asked even as he backed away. 

 

"Oh for Pete's sake," Mr. Lazenbee said impatiently, rummaging through the cabinets and assembling his arsenal of cookware. "I was cookin' for the troops in Korea before you was a gleam in your daddy's eye. Grab some wood, boy, and let me show you how it's done." 

 

Walter knew when he had been Topped. He sat down at the table beside Fox and poured himself a glass of juice. The look he gave Alex and Fox dared them to say a word. They dutifully stared straight ahead, nibbling the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing, their eyes dancing with delight. 

 

Walter settled his chin in his hand and watched as Mr. Lazenbee put Walter's biggest cast-iron skillet on the stove and began unpacking the ingredients he had brought from home. Alex and Fox watched too, whispering to one another, awed at the sheer amount of food the old man had been able to transport in that one wrinkled paper bag. 

 

There was a pound of butter, a dozen farm-fresh eggs, a sack of flour, another of grits, a bag of potatoes and onions, what looked like a pound each of bacon and sausage, joined by an assortment of boxes, jars and bottles. Walter found his mouth beginning to water as Mr. Lazenbee unpacked four beautiful, thick, perfectly marbled steaks. 

 

Walter had to admit to himself that it did rankle him a little, being shooed away from his own stove like a naughty child. But he found himself watching with growing fascination as Mr. Lazenbee set to work, his graceful, economical movements belying his old age. The old man fired up the griddle and lined up the bacon strips and sausage links in neat rows, then melted what looked like half a pound of butter in the big black iron skillet. It wasn't long before the kitchen began to fill with wonderful aromas, and Walter, Alex and Fox were sniffing the air appreciatively, their stomachs growling in anticipation. 

 

With speed and skill, Mr. Lazenbee turned the bacon and sausage, put water on to boil for grits, then peeled and chopped the potatoes and onions. He dipped the steaks in beaten egg before dredging them in flour and black pepper, then lay them carefully in the iron skillet. The old man didn't talk while he cooked, just sipped often from a second cup of coffee. Like the first, it was liberally dosed with whiskey. The silence was a comfortable one, broken only by the sizzle of the bacon and sausage and the steaks frying in the melted butter. The three younger men watched the older one cook their breakfast, moving with ease between the refrigerator and the stove, not a movement wasted. 

 

At last, Mr. Lazenbee wiped his hands on the teatowel and declared the meal ready to be served. Walter immediately rose only to be motioned back down by the older man. 

 

"Just sit back down there, Walt. I cooked it, I reckon I can get it to the table." 

 

A few minutes later, a heaping plate of hot food sat before each hungry man, with plenty more in the bowls and on the serving platters. Mr. Lazenbee sat down and tucked his napkin into his shirt collar. 

 

"All right, boys," he said with satisfaction. "Around these parts, this is what we call breakfast." 

 

Walter, Alex and Fox stared in amazement at the immense meal Mr. Lazenbee had put before them. The sausage was done to a turn, each link plump and perfectly browned. The bacon was crisp and succulent, joined by fluffy scrambled eggs drizzled with melted butter. Mr. Lazenbee ladled out four bowls of creamy grits, thick and steaming, generously flavored with butter and salt. But the piece de resistance was surely the country-fried steak, accompanied by fried potatoes and onions, the whole dish smothered in cream gravy. 

 

Alex and Fox looked at one another, then at Walter. There was more fat and salt on the table at that moment than the three of them had consumed in the last five years. Walter shrugged helplessly. Alex and Fox grinned, grabbed their forks and dug in. Soon, all four men were eating heartily, the only conversation an occasional request to pass the salt, or for a second helping of this or that. Walter had a momentary thought for the vast amount of cholesterol he was consuming, but the moment he cut into the country-fried steak, all thoughts of his cardiovascular health went out the window. Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, swimming in Mr. Lazenbee's smooth, thick cream gravy, the steak definitely was a transcendent experience. Walter closed his eyes as the choice beef seemed to melt on his tongue. 

 

Alex had barely swallowed the last of his scrambled eggs before he was reaching for the serving spoon, eager for a second helping. Fox bit into his fourth piece of bacon with gusto, already eyeing the fifth. Mr. Lazenbee matched them bite for bite, pacing himself with the wisdom borne from years of experience. 

 

"Get you some more sausage, boys," he said, reaching out with his fork to spear another fat, succulent link. "It's homemade. Ain't gonna get nothin' like this in the store, I'll tell you that right now." 

 

He didn't need to tell them twice. 

 

 

"Mmmm," Walter said, mopping his plate with one of Mr. Lazenbee's fluffy buttermilk biscuits. "Mr. Lazenbee. Thank you. That was incredible." 

 

"Yes," Alex echoed enthusiastically, "I've never had a meal like this, ever!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he flushed guiltily and glanced at Walter, his green eyes full of concern. "Oh, no," he said hastily. "I didn't mean...Walter, I...you know I love your cooking, I just meant—" 

 

"It's all right, Alex," Walter said, holding up his hand. "I know what you meant. I've never had a meal like this either. Mr. Lazenbee, you've outdone yourself." 

 

"Aw, hell, Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said, casually hiding his look of pleasure behind his coffee mug. "It weren't nothin'. None of that newfangled turkey bacon or pretend eggs like you city boys eat. Just good, simple Southern cookin' like my Momma used to make." 

 

Fox groaned with pleasure as he managed one last spoonful of the hot, buttery grits. He pushed his plate away and patted his stomach contentedly. 

 

"Thanks, Mr. Lazenbee," he said with a grin. "Many more meals like that and I'll have to buy a whole new wardrobe. I feel like I've gained five pounds!" 

 

"You'll work it off, boy," Mr. Lazenbee said with a rare smile of his own. He stood up and put his hat on again. "I've got to get on back over to the homeplace." 

 

"We really appreciate the breakfast, sir," Walter said, standing up and opening the door for Mr. Lazenbee. "You didn't have to go to such trouble." 

 

"Aw, hell," the old man said again as he stepped out onto the deck. "You're lending me your boys for the day, after all. Least I could do is feed 'em." 

 

"Thanks again, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said. "Fox and Alex will be over in half an hour or so." 

 

"Suits me fine," Mr. Lazenbee replied, moving slowly down the back steps. "I've got to drive on out to the main road, check the mail. I'll be back before they get there." 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter said, closing the door behind him. He turned to his brats and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again and just stood there, enjoying the sight of Fox and Alex, both too stuffed to move, sprawled in their chairs, hands resting on their full bellies. 

 

"Ohhh, Walter," Fox moaned, his eyelids fluttering. "That was so good. I just want to go to bed and take a nice long nap." 

 

"Me too," Alex said, resting his head on Fox's shoulder. "Get back into bed, cuddle under the covers." He paused and then added with a devilish grin, "I'm sure we could find a way to work off a few calories." 

 

Walter cleared his throat. 

 

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, you two, but you know Mr. Lazenbee is expecting you over at his place." 

 

Fox turned pleading hazel eyes on Walter. 

 

"Do we have to, Walter?" he whined. 

 

"Yeah," Alex chimed in. "You didn't even ask before you volunteered us. It's Saturday and we have to spend the whole day doing chores and we didn't even do anything wrong." He poked his bottom lip out, giving him a wounded and tragic appearance. 

 

Walter poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the table across from his two reluctant brats. 

 

"Alex, Fox," he said quietly. "Of course this isn't a punishment. Mr. Lazenbee needs a little help around the place, that's all. One day is not going to kill you. Besides," he added, "as soon as I get done with my errands in town, I'm going to come over and help." 

 

"But Walter," Fox groaned. "Mr. Lazenbee is...he's just...well, you know." 

 

"Bossy? Impatient?" Walter asked with a grin. "Impossible to deal with?" 

 

"Among other things," Fox said darkly. 

 

"Yeah," Alex said glumly. "Besides, you're leaving for that conference in Chicago on Monday. You're going to be gone a whole week. I want us to spend this weekend together, just relaxing at home." 

 

"I know," Walter said understandingly. "I'm going to miss you too when I'm away next week. And I'm sorry I didn't get your input before I told Mr. Lazenbee we'd help out. But he's a proud man and I know he wouldn't ask for help unless he really needed it. He's been a widower for years. His children have all grown up and moved away. Running a big place like that isn't easy for a frail old man like him." 

 

Alex gaped at Walter. 

 

"Frail old man?" he echoed in disbelief. "Walter, that frail old man just ate a breakfast that would put a trucker to shame! He ate the rest of my country fried steak when I couldn't finish it, and he ate three biscuits." 

 

"And he finished my fried potatoes, and he ate six sausage links and had two servings of eggs, AND two bowls of grits," Fox added. "Frail old man, indeed!" 

 

"All right," Walter laughed. "Okay, maybe Mr. Lazenbee isn't that frail after all," he agreed. "And I know he can be a bit much to take sometimes. But," he continued, gently but firmly, "he is our neighbor and neighbors help one another. He's just cooked us a huge breakfast, which is his way of saying thank you in advance. It's only for a few hours, guys. He needs our help and I want us to give it politely, respectfully and to the best of our ability. Is that understood?" 

 

Alex and Fox lowered their eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir." 

 

"Good," Walter said, rising and leaning across the table for a kiss from each of them. He began to stack the plates and gather the glasses together. "I'll do the cleaning up in here. You two go upstairs and get dressed, then head over to Mr. Lazenbee's. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox replied. They reluctantly headed upstairs to get dressed for the day's work ahead. 

 

 

"Come on in the house!" Mr. Lazenbee said, holding his back door open. Alex and Fox murmured politely and trooped in. They stood awkwardly in the kitchen, looking around with interest. They had never been inside Mr. Lazenbee's house before. Fox imagined it must look just as it had when Mrs. Lazenbee was alive. There were white curtains at the kitchen window, with an embroidered hem in a sunflower design. There was an antique hoosier cabinet against one wall and an old-fashioned icebox humming loudly in the corner. Mr. Lazenbee shuffled across the faded linoleum toward the hallway. 

 

"Come on, boys. I got plenty for you all to do so we best get started." 

 

Alex and Fox exchanged looks of mutual self-pity and obediently followed the old man down the dim hallway, the hardwood floor creaking under their feet. The house smelled of wood polish and mothballs. Alex stifled a sneeze and paused to look at a portrait on the wall. The round, pleasant face of an elderly woman smiled out from the oval frame. She wore a blue suit, with a carnation pinned to one shoulder, and a few neat gray curls showed beneath the brim of her hat. 

 

"Sir?" Alex said, a little nervously. "Is...is this your wife?" 

 

Mr. Lazenbee stopped and turned, shuffling back toward Alex and Fox. He paused and gazed at the portrait for a moment, pausing to wipe a bit of dust from the glass with a wrinkled handkerchief he fished from his pocket. 

 

"Yep," he said after a moment. "That's my Viola Marie. Best woman God ever put on the face of this earth." 

 

Alex smiled, touched by the love the old man obviously felt for his wife. His own heart shuddered for a moment at the thought of what it must have been like to lose a soulmate, to be the one left behind. The thought of losing Walter or Fox was too awful to contemplate. All those years alone...Alex felt his throat tightening and moved closer to Fox, wishing he could wrap his arms around him, feel Fox's skin against his, but that would probably be a little much for Mr. Lazenbee. 

 

"Has it been...when did..." Alex began shyly, then trailed off. He looked down, fearful of having said something wrong. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee cleared his throat, shoved his handkerchief back into his pocket. 

 

"We got too much to do to stand around here jawbonin'," he said quietly. "Let's get up to the attic." 

 

Alex and Fox followed Mr. Lazenbee up the narrow staircase. Alex was downcast, worried he had offended the old man. Fox winked at him encouragingly as they inched up the stairs. Mr. Lazenbee moved slowly and Alex and Fox had to pause frequently to avoid bumping into him. Fox wondered suddenly where Mr. Lazenbee's walking stick was. He wanted to ask but didn't want to be rude. Once they reached the top of the stairs, they came to another hallway. Mr. Lazenbee led the way down the second hallway, around a corner and up another flight of steps. Fox and Alex followed along silently, their Timberland boots echoing on the wood floor, looking at the old photographs and antique furniture with interest. 

 

At last, they came to a door. A glance out of the window at the end of the hallway proved they were a good three floors up. The old man pulled a keyring from his pocket and peered at the keys, passing them through his fingers until he found the right one. He fit it into the old brass lock and opened the door. The three men stepped inside and Mr. Lazenbee tugged the chain that hung down from the single light bulb, shedding faint light on fifty years' worth of accumulated junk. Fox and Alex squinted at the many pieces of dusty old furniture and assorted cardboard boxes and groaned inwardly. 

 

"All right, now," Mr. Lazenbee said, gesturing around the cramped attic. "I'd be perfectly fine leavin' all this stuff here. Most of it's been up here since Ike was President and ain't bothered nobody. But," he sighed, nudging a nearby box of books with his foot, "this old roof's about to go. Got more leaks than Carter has pills. I got a man comin' from Stanardsville to work on it in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime, I need you two boys to move all this mess downstairs. I'd just as soon truck all this mess right to the Goodwill but some of it belongs to my boys and I figure they might want it for their young 'uns." 

 

Fox picked up a faded lampshade and examined it curiously before putting it down on the old dresser where he'd found it. 

 

"How many sons do you have, sir?" he asked. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee seemed disinclined toward further conversation. 

 

"Never mind," he said abruptly, then turned to leave. "You boys haul all this stuff downstairs away from the rain. I'll be back to check on you and I want to see bee-hinds and elbows movin' when I do. I got plenty other chores for you all." 

 

Alex turned to Fox as Mr. Lazenbee's footsteps on the stairs faded into the distance. He rolled his eyes and snapped a mock salute. 

 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lazenbee, sir!" he said sarcastically. "Jeez. We're doing him a favor. The least he could do is say please!" 

 

"Yeah," Fox sighed, staring around glumly. "It's going to take us hours to move all this junk out of here." 

 

Alex kicked dejectedly at a pile of National Geographics. "Well, I guess we may as well get started before the General comes back." 

 

"Or before Walter gets here," Fox said with a wince. "If we haven't made a dent in Mr. Lazenbee's chores by the time Walter's done in town, our muscles won't be the only things aching." 

 

Alex nodded reluctantly and hoisted a box of books onto his shoulder. "You're right. Besides, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can muster out of Mr. Lazenbee's private army." 

 

Fox laughed and grabbed a hatrack with one hand and an old phonograph player with the other. "Lead the way, Ratboy." 

 

Alex wiggled his butt at Fox as he sauntered out of the room. 

 

 

Two hours later... 

 

Fox dropped a huge box of old toys on the hallway floor and slid down beside it. Alex, panting, came down the stairs, picking his way along, trying to see his feet over the pile of encyclopedias in his arms. Groaning, he dropped them in the corner next to a rusty tricycle and a moldering golf bag. He sat down next to Fox, his elbows on his knees, and leaned his head back against the wall. 

 

"Ohhh," he moaned, closing his eyes. "One more trip up and down those stairs and my legs are going to give out." 

 

Fox looked over at Alex. He was exhausted, but not too exhausted to notice how adorable Alex looked with his hair hanging in his eyes and that smudge on his cheek. Looking around cautiously for Mr. Lazenbee and seeing no sign of his approach, he cupped Alex's chin and risked a quick kiss. Alex grinned and kissed Fox back, teasing those lush lips with his tongue until Fox pulled away, smiling sheepishly. 

 

"We'd better stop before the old man comes back and catches us." 

 

Alex's grin widened. 

 

"Hey," he whispered, his husky voice making Fox's cock harden uncomfortably in his jeans, "this is kind of sexy. Like that porno video you used to have, 'Bad Boys' School', where the boys are in the equipment room after track practice and the coach comes in and catches them..." 

 

"Alex..." 

 

"Come on," Alex urged, giggling devilishly as he toyed with the top button of Fox's jeans. "Quick Jason," he stage-whispered, his husky voice slightly higher than usual, "we have to hurry! If Coach comes back and catches us, he'll send us to the Principal's office." Alex paused and nuzzled Fox's neck, grinning mischieviously at Fox's discomfort. "I don't want to get paddled again, Jason," he whimpered convincingly. "I couldn't sit down for a week last time. But you're SO hot, it was worth it..." 

 

"Aleeeeex, stop," Fox moaned, shifting uncomfortably. "You're killing me." 

 

"Come on, Fox. It's so hot. The risk, the danger of getting caught..." 

 

"The danger of ending up over Walter's knee while he conveys to us, clearly and distinctly, just how difficult it was for him to explain to Mr. Lazenbee what we were doing groping each other in his hallway..." 

 

"Okay," Alex gulped. "You're right." He sighed and looked down. "Better than a cold shower," he remarked ruefully. Slowly, he got to his feet. "Come on, we'd better get this stuff out of the hallway before we go back for the rest." 

 

"How much is left?" Fox asked, idly flipping through an old copy of the Saturday Evening Post. He sneezed and tossed it back onto the pile. 

 

"Not much," Alex said, stretching and grimacing as his back popped. "Just the end tables and a couple more boxes, and that big mirror." 

 

"Where did he say to put all this stuff?" Fox asked quizzically. "He said the basement, right?" 

 

"I think so," Alex answered. "I mean, he said downstairs and I don't see anyplace else all this stuff would fit." 

 

Fox nodded, looking around. There was a door close to the bottom of the stairs. "This must be it," he said, moving a pile of clothes aside with his foot. "Nope," he said, after glancing inside. "Closet." 

 

Alex stuck his head around the corner, looking into the hallway that led to the kitchen. "There's another door back here." 

 

Fox walked around the corner as Alex opened the door. Peering into the darkness, they could see a flight of cement steps flanked by cinderblock walls. "Aha!" Alex said, feeling the wall close to the door, looking for the lightswitch. 

 

Suddenly there was a swoosh and a stinging sensation in his backside. 

 

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his bottom through the denim. 

 

"What the Sam Hill are you two doin'?" Mr. Lazenbee demanded, shaking his walking stick at Alex. "I didn't tell you to go in there!" 

 

"I...but, Mr. Lazenbee—" Alex started. 

 

"We thought you wanted us to take the things from the attic down to the basement," Fox said, his eyes huge. "We didn't mean to—" 

 

"Well, you did," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. He took the keyring from his pocket again and locked the basement door, tugging at the knob to make sure it was secure. He shook a bony finger at the two chastened young men. "I told you all to bring that stuff downstairs. I didn't say nothin' about goin' into my basement." 

 

"We're sorry," Alex said, flustered. "We didn't realize. We didn't mean to make you mad, we were only trying to—" 

 

"I don't want to hear any more about it," Mr. Lazenbee said with a scowl. "Ya'll steer clear of it. There's a coupla spare rooms at the end of the hall. You boys carry that junk in there and then come on out back. I got some more work for you out in the barn." 

 

With that, the old man shuffled off, grumbling to himself as he went. 

 

Alex and Fox stared at each other, wide-eyed. 

 

"What the hell was that all about?" Fox said, stunned. 

 

"I don't know," Alex said. "Why would he be so upset about us going into his basement?" 

 

"I don't know," Fox said, staring at the closed door. His curiosity was definitely piqued. Why would the old man get so angry over such a trivial thing? His profiler's mind was already turning the event over and over, examining it, wanting to know more. The old man had been a widower for twenty years, obviously loved his wife...maybe the basement was where he kept things that belonged to her, things with sentimental value? Or maybe the old man had a few jugs of white lightning down there, maybe he figured the "city boys" next door with their D.C. connections might call the revenuers down on him. Fox chuckled. Or, he sighed inwardly, maybe he was just a sour old coot. 

 

Fox glanced at Alex and the smile disappeared from his face. Alex stood, his head down, still slowly rubbing his backside. Fox moved close to Alex and put his arm around him, not caring if Mr. Lazenbee came back and saw. Alex looked up at Fox, his green eyes dark with hurt. 

 

"I don't understand," he said softly. "What did we do?" 

 

Fox pulled Alex close, felt Alex wrap around him gratefully. 

 

"We didn't do anything, Alex," he said gently. "I guess Mr. Lazenbee just likes things done his way." 

 

Alex nodded. He glanced down, then back up at Fox, his expression troubled. One hand lingered on the seat of his jeans. Fox looked at him with concern. 

 

"Did he hurt you? With the stick?" 

 

Alex shook his head. 

 

"No," he said slowly. "He didn't swat me that hard. It's just..." he swallowed hard, looking into Fox's eyes. "Only Walter's supposed to do that," he whispered softly. 

 

Fox pulled him close again, stroked the soft dark hair. 

 

"I know," he said quietly. "I see why you're upset. But Mr. Lazenbee wasn't trying to do what Walter does for us. He's just old and cranky and set in his ways. From what I can tell, he swats everybody. He even got Walter this morning, remember?" 

 

Alex flushed and smiled a little. "Yeah." 

 

Fox brushed a lock of hair from Alex's eyes and smiled at him understandingly. "I know it bothered you, what Mr. Lazenbee did. Let's just try and keep on his good side until we're done here, okay?" 

 

Alex smiled, his face less troubled now. "Okay." 

 

Fox gave his lover one last squeeze and grinned. "Come on, Rat. We'd better get that stuff into the spare rooms and get out to the barn before the old man comes looking for us." 

 

 

Walter sat on the edge of the bathtub, a towel around his waist, swirling his hand in the steaming water. Another prudent investment of time and money, the huge sunken tub in its blue-tiled alcove had more than paid for itself in the hours of pleasure they had gotten from it. Walter looked up with a smile as his two weary brats shuffled in, ready to soak their aching muscles and wash off the sweat of a hard day's work. 

 

"God, that water looks good," Alex groaned as he toed off his boots. 

 

"I'm right behind you," Fox said, unbuttoning his shirt. "After a day at Mr. Lazenbee's, that tub looks like heaven." 

 

"As if you two needed an excuse for a soak in the tub," Walter teased. "You'd stay in there until you grew gills if I let you." He pulled the cork from a small glass bottle and drizzled the pale green oil into the water. The room filled with the cool scent of eucalyptus. Alex and Fox quickly finished stripping their clothes off and stepped gratefully into the tub, sighing with pleasure. Walter grinned and dropped his towel, sinking into the hot water and settling back comfortably. He draped his arms around his brats' shoulders and felt them draw near. For a moment the three men were silent, slowly unwinding as the soothing water did its work. 

 

Walter looked down and dropped a kiss on each of the two dark heads nestled against his chest. 

 

"You two look exhausted. Mr. Lazenbee really wore you out." 

 

"You have no idea," Alex said, his eyes closed. 

 

"Loading all that lumber onto the truck was a big job," Walter remarked. "And I'm glad I got there in time to help you with the storm windows. I thought we'd never get them all up." 

 

"That's just after you got there," Fox said with a yawn. "Before that, we cleared out the attic, cleaned the barn, spread a truckload of gravel on the drive and raked leaves for about two hours." 

 

"And then we had to load all of the bags of leaves onto the truck and drive them down to the dump," Alex griped. "And he told us about fifty times not to scratch his truck." 

 

"Have you seen that thing?" Fox asked, looking up at Walter. "I think the rust is the only thing holding it together." 

 

Walter grinned and leaned down for a kiss. Fox was only too happy to oblige, pressing against Walter eagerly. Walter left Fox flushed, his lips swollen and wet, and turned to Alex, whose green eyes were already burning bright, his nipples hard. Alex threw his head back and spread his legs as Walter began to kiss and nibble at his neck. 

 

"Ah...oh God, Walter..." Alex's voice was husky, his lips parted as he panted with arousal. Fox grinned and began an oral assault of his own on Walter's nipples, while one hand dipped underwater and teased Alex's cock. Walter's baritone chuckle could be heard as one large hand felt along the rim of the tub, found the button and hit it, turning on the water jets full force. The water churned, sending up new clouds of steam, and the three tired men found they weren't quite so tired, after all. 

 

 

Walter stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting his tie. His suitcase sat by the front door. He looked at it with resignation. He would only be away a few days, but at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to cancel and stay home. He treasured the time he and Alex and Fox spent in their mountain hideaway. He had only agreed to attend the conference as a favor to an old Bureau colleague who felt Walter's expertise would be a welcome addition to a few of the seminars scheduled. 

 

Alex and Fox hovered near the kitchen door, watching sadly as Walter slid his billfold and airline ticket into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and picked up his keys. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Walter frowned, sure it was a salesman or a survey taker. Around here, friends and neighbors always came to the back door. 

 

Walter opened the heavy wooden door and was surprised to see the Sheriff standing there. 

 

"Hello, Sheriff Pemberton," Walter said politely, wondering what was going on. "Please, come in." 

 

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Skinner," Sheriff Pemberton replied, removing his hat as he stepped inside. "Mr. Mulder, Mr. Krycek," he said, nodding to them. 

 

"Hello, Sheriff Pemberton," they replied, returning his nod. 

 

The Sheriff glanced at Walter's suitcase. 

 

"I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time, Mr. Skinner." 

 

"Oh no," Walter said with a smile. "I'm just off on a business trip. And please, call me Walter." 

 

"Appreciate it, Walter," the Sheriff said amiably. "I won't keep you all. I just want to ask you if you've seen George or Frances Dalton lately, or their kids?" 

 

Walter thought for a moment. 

 

"I did see George down at the post office," he said. "I guess it was last Tuesday or Wednesday." He turned to Alex and Fox. "Alex? Fox? What about you?" 

 

Both shrugged and shook their heads. 

 

"Have you checked with Mr. Lazenbee?" Walter asked. 

 

"Yep," Sheriff Pemberton said with a sigh. "He said he hasn't seen hide nor hair of 'em." 

 

"Is something wrong?" Fox asked, stepping forward. "Has something happened?" 

 

The Sheriff scratched his head reflectively. 

 

"It's the dangdest thing," he said, frowning. "I got a call from Mrs. Dalton's sister out in Lexington. Says she's been tryin' to raise 'em on the phone for about three days now. I went by their place and it was shut up tight. They didn't say anything to anybody about going out of town, near as I can tell. But they ain't gotten their mail in and there's about five newspapers on the front porch." 

 

Fox frowned, the wheels already turning. 

 

"Have you interviewed other relatives?" he asked quickly. "What about marital problems? Have you—" 

 

"Fox," Walter said reprovingly. "I'm sure Sheriff Pemberton has everything under control." 

 

Fox looked down sheepishly. 

 

"Sorry, Sheriff," he said humbly. "I guess old habits die hard. I really hope nothing's wrong." 

 

The Sheriff hooked his thumbs through his beltloops and rocked thoughtfully on his heels. 

 

"That's all right, son," he said kindly. "It's too soon to know just yet. Right now, I'm just talkin' to the neighbors and gettin' a feel for the situation. Mrs. Dalton's sister did mention that their cousin down in Florida just had a baby, said they mighta took it into their heads to head on down there and surprise her." 

 

"Well, sorry we can't be more help," Walter said, shaking the Sheriff's hand. "If we hear anything, we'll be sure to let you know." 

 

"Thank you, Walter," the Sheriff said, turning toward the door as Walter opened it for him. "Ya'll have a good day now." 

 

The door had barely closed behind Sheriff Pemberton when Fox began talking excitedly. 

 

"Walter, when you saw George Dalton at the post office last week, how did he look? Did he look tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well? What about Mrs. Dalton? How do they get along?" 

 

"Fox..." 

 

"Their car's kind of old, isn't it? What is it, a '93? I wonder—" 

 

"FOX!" Walter's booming voice echoed in the foyer. 

 

Fox stopped talking, his bright hazel eyes growing round. He gulped. 

 

"Sorry, Walter." 

 

Walter smiled and walked over to Fox, pulling him in for a bear hug. 

 

"Fox," he said gently. "Let the Sheriff handle this. We've had this conversation before, remember?" 

 

Fox bit his lip. "Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter cupped Fox's face in his hands, his brown eyes stern but loving. 

 

"And what did we say?" 

 

Fox looked down, then back up at Walter. He sighed. 

 

"Not everything is an X-File." 

 

Walter grinned. "Thank goodness." He held his arm out and Alex burrowed under it, grabbing as much of Walter as he could reach. The three men stood like that for a moment, enjoying the embrace, until Walter reluctantly glanced at his watch. "I've got to go or I'll miss my plane," he said, pausing for a kiss from each of his beloved brats. "I'll call as soon as I get to Chicago." 

 

"Wish you didn't have to go," Alex said, his eyes watering. "No more conferences, Walter." 

 

"Okay," Walter said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I promise, this is the last one, for a while at least. Be good while I'm gone." 

 

"Always," Fox said angelically, slipping his arm around Alex's waist. "We love you, big man. Be careful." 

 

"Love you too," Walter said, gathering up his suitcase and topcoat. "Talk to you tonight." 

 

The door closed behind him and Alex turned to Fox, burying his face in Fox's neck with a sigh. "Miss him already," he mumbled. 

 

"Me too," Fox said wistfully, listening as Walter's car started up and rolled down the drive, its tires crunching on the gravel. He smiled down at the forlorn Rat in his arms. "Come on. There's a Halloween movie marathon on the Sci-Fi Network. Might take our minds off it for a while." 

 

 

"Alex!" Fox whispered. "Hey, Alex!" 

 

"Mmmmmphh," Alex mumbled into the pillow. "Go 'way, Fox. Sleepin'." 

 

Fox made an exasperated noise and reached for the bedside lamp, flipping the light on determinedly. Alex groaned and yanked the covers up, his tousled dark hair disappearing under a mound of goose down comforter. 

 

"Alex, come on," Fox urged. "Alex!" 

 

A throaty growl emanated from beneath the comforter. Out of patience, Alex threw it back and regarded Fox with two deeply unhappy green eyes. 

 

"Fox," he snapped, "it's three o' clock in the morning!" 

 

Fox turned his hazel eyes on Alex imploringly. 

 

"Please Alex," he said beseechingly. "You've got to come and see this!" 

 

Alex sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair, which stuck up in all directions. Fox couldn't resist ogling his lover's naked body as Alex shrugged into his bathrobe, belted it, and looked at him, his eyes hooded and sleepy. 

 

"All right, Fox," Alex said, his tone indicating that he was less than amused. "Put your tongue back into your mouth and tell me just what the hell is so important that you had to wake me up out of a sound sleep?" 

 

"Come on," Fox urged again, tugging at Alex's hand. "I can't tell you. I have to show you." 

 

Blearily, Alex allowed Fox to lead him downstairs through the darkened house. Alex felt an ache in his heart as they passed through the large, empty kitchen, seeming emptier still without Walter there. He reassured himself with the thought that Walter would be home from the week-long law enforcement conference the next day. 

 

Fox opened the door leading onto the huge redwood deck, turning to Alex and putting one finger up to his lips. 

 

"Shhh, don't make a sound." 

 

Rolling his eyes in the darkness, Alex followed Fox outside, shivering a little in the early morning mountain air. Around them, the Shenandoah Valley lay under a blanket of stars, wisps of fog drifting over the hills, wraithlike and silver in the moonlight. Fox led Alex over to the deck railing overlooking Mr. Lazenbee's property. 

 

"Look," Fox whispered. "Do you see?" 

 

Alex squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark landscape, lit only by the low-hanging moon. After a moment, he detected movement behind the neighboring house. He leaned forward, barely able to make out the dark figure as it moved along slowly, dragging something large and obviously heavy. Alex and Fox watched as the figure, laden with its mysterious bundle, disappeared into the shadows close to the house. 

 

Alex turned to Fox. 

 

"And?" 

 

Fox's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, glowing with an excitement Alex knew all too well. 

 

"And?" Fox repeated incredulously. "Did you SEE that?" 

 

Alex gave Fox a look and shoved his hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. 

 

"Let's go back inside before we both get pneumonia," he said, heading toward the kitchen door. 

 

Once inside, Alex put a pot of coffee on and sat down at the kitchen table. He took a wistful glance at the clock but one look at the determined set of Fox's jaw told him he could forget about getting back to sleep anytime soon. When the coffee was ready, Alex corralled the sugar bowl, adding an extra spoonful to his mug. Walter would have raised an eyebrow at him, but Walter wasn't there, and besides, he deserved it for his trouble. Fox sat across from him, stirring milk into his own mug, his knees bouncing up and down under the table with manic energy. 

 

Alex's green eyes regarded him with a noticeable lack of humor. 

 

"That's what you woke me up for?" Alex groused. "To show me Mr. Lazenbee doing some late night yard work?" 

 

Fox put his mug down with a clatter, slopping coffee over the rim. 

 

"Yard work?" he snorted. "Alex, the man has to be in his eighties! And who does yard work at three a.m.?" 

 

Alex looked at him over the rim of his mug. 

 

"Who wakes his lover up to watch someone doing yard work at three a.m.? Fox, I've said it before and I'll say it again. No more 'Forensic Files' for you." 

 

Fox leaned forward, one hand on Alex's arm. 

 

"Alex, this is serious," he said earnestly. "I've been watching. This isn't the first time I've seen him. He's been out there at about this time every morning this week. I can't tell what he's doing, but it's something." 

 

Alex snorted and reached for the coffeepot. 

 

"So that's why you've been coming to bed so late. You mean to tell me that this entire week Walter's been in Chicago, you've been out on the back deck spying on Mr. Lazenbee?" Alex asked, his eyebrows raised. "Man oh man. If Walter finds out, you can forget about sitting down again in this lifetime." 

 

The curiosity burning in Fox's eyes only intensified at the warning. 

 

"I'm telling you, Alex. Something suspicious is going on. That old duffer is up to something!" 

 

Alex tried to look away but Fox's lively hazel eyes wouldn't let him. Alex saw the look in those eyes and put his mug down quickly. 

 

"Oh no," he said, holding up his hands. "No. Fox—" 

 

"Please," Fox asked plaintively. "Come on, Alex, partners," he wheedled. "Partners, just like the old days." 

 

Alex put his head in his hands. 

 

"I can't believe I'm letting myself get dragged into this," he moaned. "We'll be partners, all right. Partners in getting our butts whacked." 

 

"All right!" Fox crowed, reaching over and bringing Alex close for a loud, satisfying smack on the lips. "Trust me, Alex. What could go wrong?" 

 

 

Alex crept along, shivering in the chill morning air despite his sweatshirt and jeans—black, of course, at Fox's insistence—following Fox across the field that separated their property from Mr. Lazenbee's. His butt was tingling annoyingly, reminding him that they were definitely Not Supposed To Be Here. Alex gulped a little, his buttocks clenching as he remembered the switching he and Fox had gotten not too long ago for trespassing on Mr. Lazenbee's farm. 

 

"Fox!" he whispered urgently. "This doesn't feel right. Let's go back." 

 

"Not on your life," Fox said, reaching the side of Mr. Lazenbee's farmhouse and pressing himself against it, the shadows obscuring his face. "Come on, Alex. We're here now. Let's at least get a look." 

 

Alex leaned against the wooden siding beside Fox, looking around intently, sure that they would be discovered any moment. 

 

"We're going to get caught," Alex insisted. "Let's just go back." 

 

"No," Fox said in exasperation. "Look, Alex. His kitchen light's the only one on. Just one quick look, that's all I want." 

 

"Just one?" Alex asked, looking at Fox intently. 

 

"Just one, I promise," Fox said sincerely. "Please, Alex?" 

 

Alex nodded reluctantly. Fox motioned to him and the two men slipped stealthily around the corner to the back of the house. The light from the kitchen window spilled out onto the wet grass, splitting the darkness. His heart pounding, Alex stood against the wall, his old survival instincts in high gear, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area for any movement. 

 

Cautiously, Fox hunkered down beneath the kitchen window. Slowly, he raised up on his toes and peered into the window, careful to stay low so as not to be seen. His eyes widened and he stumbled back with an audible gasp, almost falling over Alex, who was crouched down beside him. 

 

"Jesus, Fox!" Alex hissed. "What the hell are you—" 

 

"Look!" Fox said urgently, grabbing Alex by the shoulders. 

 

"What?" Alex said, looking up at the window. Fox hauled him roughly to his feet and gave him a shove in the window's direction. 

 

"Just...look!" 

 

Fox's face was pale in the moonlight. Alex stared at him for a moment, wondering what had him so agitated. Slowly, he edged closer to the window, reaching up and catching hold of the ledge with his fingertips. He stood on tiptoe and looked through the glass, pondering for a moment how fortunate it was that it was so clean, thanks to his own hard work the Saturday before. Of course, it had been hard to miss a spot with Mr. Lazenbee standing a few feet away, helpfully pointing out smudges with ominous waves of his walking stick. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee's back was to him. The old man was standing by the sink, doing something Alex couldn't see. Alex's eyes roamed over the rest of the kitchen. There was a large metal bowl on the kitchen table. An assortment of knives lay beside it. Alex could see what looked like two or three large burlap bags lying in the corner. There was something in them but it was impossible to tell what. He watched for a moment as Mr. Lazenbee, oblivious to his presence, worked intently. Alex moved a little closer to the glass, wishing Mr. Lazenbee would move so that Alex could see what he was doing. 

 

Suddenly Mr. Lazenbee turned around and walked to the kitchen table. Alex's eyes were sharp but even a rank amateur couldn't have missed the bloodstains on the old man's white shirt. It was covered in reddish smears and spots. Behind him, on the kitchen counter next to the sink, Alex could see an old-fashioned meat grinder. Next to it sat a large white platter piled with what appeared to be uncooked sausage links. Various spice bottles sat on the counter nearby, their caps off. Mr. Lazenbee walked to the kitchen table and picked up the bowl, carrying it back to the counter. Before he turned his back, Alex caught a glimpse of a piece of raw, glistening meat being lifted from the bowl. The old man grinned and appeared to be talking to himself. He turned his back again and busied himself with his grinding. 

 

 

Fox paced back and forth, his eyes alight with excitement, thinking out loud as his brilliant mind raced. 

 

"Obvious...should have seen it before...classic controlling personality..." 

 

Alex sat at the kitchen table, his head moving back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. 

 

"Fox," he attempted. 

 

"Rage issues...isolation...mood swings..." 

 

"Fox," Alex said, more firmly. "Would you sit down? You're making me dizzy." 

 

Fox made an exasperated sound and stopped in his tracks, holding out his hands supplicatingly. 

 

"Come on, Alex. You saw what I saw!" 

 

"I saw," Alex said, sipping his hot cocoa calmly, "an old man making sausage in his kitchen." 

 

Fox pulled out a chair across from Alex and sat down heavily, his frustration evident. 

 

"At three o'clock in the morning?" he said incredulously. 

 

Alex shrugged, reaching for the bag of mini-marshmallows and adding another handful to his mug. 

 

"So he's an insomniac," he said, tossing the bag aside. "It's not an actionable offense." 

 

Fox glowered at him. 

 

"Now you're making fun of me," he said, hurt. 

 

Alex reached across the table and squeezed Fox's hand. 

 

"I'm sorry, Fox," he said sincerely. "I'm not making fun of you, honest. It's just...well, you're assuming an awful lot here." 

 

Fox jumped up and began to pace again. 

 

"One," he said, holding up a long finger. "There is something in Mr. Lazenbee's basement that he does not want anyone to see. Two," he said, pausing for a sip of coffee, "an entire family just happens to be missing. Three, Mr. Lazenbee has been observed by me, and by you, dragging heavy objects across his back yard in the wee hours of the morning. And four, you and I have just seen him, with our own eyes, wearing bloody clothes and engaging in suspicious activities." 

 

Alex stared at him blankly over the rim of his mug. 

 

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Fox demanded, out of patience. "Mr. Lazenbee is a murderer!" 

 

Alex set his mug down, splashing the hot cocoa on his wrist. 

 

"Ow!" he said, sucking at it. "Come on, Fox. That's a stretch—an enormous stretch—and you know it." 

 

"Is it?" Fox snapped, leaning against the counter and looking at Alex intently. "Okay, it's circumstantial, I'll give you that. But let me ask you, why is that sometimes Mr. Lazenbee uses his walking stick, like when he was here for breakfast last weekend, and other times, he doesn't? He didn't use it when we were over at his place working, except on your butt. And he sure wasn't using it this morning when he was dragging that heavy sack across his back yard. And another thing," he said, snapping his fingers at Alex, who looked in danger of dozing off, "why is he so tight-lipped about his past? Won't talk about his wife, won't talk about his kids...what is he hiding?" 

 

"Fox," Alex said wearily. "Can we think about it in bed? I'm exhausted." 

 

Fox stared at him incredulously, his hands on his hips. 

 

"Alex!" he shouted. "Our next-door neighbor is in all probability a mass-murderer! And all you want to do is sleep?" 

 

"Well, what do YOU want to do, Sherlock?" Alex snapped. "Call the SWAT team and kick his door in? You haven't got one single bit of proof that Mr. Lazenbee is guilty of anything other than being a cranky old geezer who likes to stay up late." 

 

Fox folded his arms mulishly. 

 

"Mr. Lazenbee murdered that poor family," he said evenly, "and turned them into sausage." 

 

Alex looked up sharply. 

 

"FOX." 

 

Fox put his hands on his hips. 

 

"Come on, Alex. We saw what we saw! The clues are laid out right there in front of us. Do you really not see them? Or do you just not want to see them?" 

 

Alex rested his hands flat on the table and shook his head as if trying to clear it. 

 

"Fox," he said carefully, his face pale. "Do you know what you're saying? You're saying that...that Mr. Lazenbee..." 

 

"Murdered that family in cold blood. Ground their flesh into tiny pieces, mixed them with spices and stuffed—" 

 

"Okay, okay," Alex said weakly, holding up his hands. "Obviously, you do know what you're saying. Fox, this is a very serious accusation to make. I mean, what if we're just jumping to conclusions here? What if there's a perfectly good explanation for everything we've seen?" 

 

Fox just stared at Alex, his hazel eyes solemn and intense. Alex looked down and swallowed hard. After a moment, he looked up at Fox again, his expression dazed and nauseous. 

 

"Oh my God, Fox," he whispered. 

 

Fox shoved his hands in his pockets. 

 

"Exactly," he said with finality, unable to hide the proud tone that crept into his voice. It was, he had to admit to himself, good to know that his profiling abilities were still razor-sharp. "Our next-door neighbor is not the harmless old man he pretends to be. He is, in fact, a ruthless murderer who is not content with merely snuffing out innocent lives. He is also driven by some dark, pathological need to turn them into sausage and serve them, steaming hot, to unsuspecting friends and neighbors, no doubt watching with glee as they innocently chew—" 

 

Alex clapped a hand over his mouth and stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. 

 

"Oh God," he said, his voice muffled, his eyes wide. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" 

 

He rushed to the sink and bent over it, gasping as his stomach heaved and roiled. Fox quickly turned on the cold water and splashed it on Alex's face with one hand while rubbing Alex's back with the other. 

 

"It's all right," he said soothingly. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to think out loud like that. I should have known it would upset you, considering those five sausage links you ate when Mr. Lazenbee cooked for us last Saturday." 

 

Alex turned his head to look up at Fox, his face shining with droplets of water. 

 

"You ate six!" 

 

Fox nodded, his eyes already faraway, continuing to rub Alex's back mechanically as he talked. 

 

"Yes...the question is why does Mr. Lazenbee have a need to break what is arguably the oldest taboo known to mankind? Perhaps he and Mr. Dalton were rivals. Maybe Mr. Lazenbee felt the need to consume the flesh of his enemy and thus take on his knowledge and strength—" 

 

"Fox," Alex said, standing up, his stomach at last—barely—under control. He grabbed the teatowel and wiped his face with it. "The question is, what do we do about it?" 

 

Fox snapped out of his reverie and pulled Alex close. Alex wrapped his arms around Fox and rested his head on Fox's shoulder. He felt bile rise again in his throat and choked it back. He'd been through some terrible times before his new life with Walter and Fox. He'd done things, seen things, survived things others couldn't have, but he'd never...no, he'd never eaten...Alex gulped again and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Best not to think about it. 

 

"We prove it," Fox said determinedly. "We gather the evidence and we make sure that diabolical old man can never hurt another innocent person again." He looked down at Alex, kissed the younger man's clammy forehead. "Are you with me?" 

 

Alex nodded against his shoulder. 

 

"Partners," he said huskily. "Just like the old days. If you're sure, Fox, then I'm with you. I'm not going to let you do this alone." 

 

"Thanks, Rat," Fox whispered, enjoying the feel of Alex's silky hair against his cheek. "I promise you won't be sorry." 

 

Alex looked up with a wry expression. 

 

"Yeah," he said ruefully. "Remind me of that when I'm bent over Walter's desk. If he finds out about this little field investigation of ours, our asses are grass." 

 

Fox looked around the room nervously, almost as if he expected Walter to come walking in any minute. 

 

"He won't find out. It's not lying," he added hastily, when Alex's eyes grew troubled. "We are going to tell him. After we've gathered all the evidence." 

 

Alex nodded doubtfully. 

 

"Bed now?" he said softly. 

 

"Yes," Fox said, taking Alex's hand and pulling him toward the stairs. He paused for one last look through the kitchen window toward Mr. Lazenbee's farm. "Let's go to bed." 

 

 

Alex sighed in his sleep and rolled over, snuggling up to Fox. Fox draped an arm across Alex and yawned, pulling Alex closer until their heads lay on the same pillow. Fox's stomach growled loudly and he gradually became aware of a mouth-watering aroma filling the room. Poking his nose above the covers for a moment, he sniffed the air, then settled back with a smile on his face. Whatever was cooking downstairs smelled fantastic. 

 

"Alex?" Fox whispered, still not fully awake. 

 

"Hmmmph?" Alex mumbled. 

 

"Mmm, something smells good," Fox said, his eyes still closed. He burrowed down further under the blankets. "What is it?" 

 

"Sausage," Alex answered sleepily. 

 

There was silence for a moment. 

 

Suddenly, both men's eyes snapped open. 

 

"SAUSAGE!" Alex and Fox shouted at once, sitting bolt upright in bed. They stared at each other and then at the open bedroom door. 

 

"Oh my God!" Fox yelped, jumping out of bed. He grabbed their bathrobes from the foot of the bed and tossed Alex's to him. They quickly slipped into their robes and headed for the door, belting them on the fly. They pounded down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen. 

 

"WALTER!" They shouted in unison. 

 

Walter turned away from the stove, a spatula in one hand, an apron covering his neat white dress shirt. His topcoat and jacket lay neatly draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 

 

"Good morning, boys," he said mildly. "Hungry?" 

 

He laughed and turned back to the stove, carefully turning the plump links of sausage so that they would brown evenly. 

 

Fox and Alex gaped at him, their mouths hanging open. Walter stood, oblivious to their distress, calmly sipping a cup of coffee while the sausage sizzled merrily in the pan. On the countertop next to the stove sat a platter of fresh, uncooked links, each one a pink and perfect masterpiece. 

 

"Y'all better close them mouths up, be catchin' flies the next thing you know," Mr. Lazenbee said. Alex and Fox gasped and stared at the old man, who sat at the kitchen table, sipping quietly from his own cup of coffee. Mr. Lazenbee turned to Walter. "Just like I said, boy. My special homemade sausage sure brings 'em runnin'!" 

 

Walter laughed and glanced at his watch. 

 

"Talk about raising the dead," he joked. "If it gets these two out of bed before eight, it's got to be good." 

 

"W-Walter," Fox stammered. "What's going on? When did you get in?" 

 

"I got an earlier flight," Walter said, moving the sausage around in the pan with his spatula. "I got in about an hour ago and I didn't want to wake you. Mr. Lazenbee saw me pull in and he brought over some more of his incredible sausage for us. A pound to cook and a pound to freeze. Wasn't that nice of him?" 

 

Fox and Alex stared, their mouths suddenly dry. 

 

"Alex? Fox?" Walter said, turning to look at them quizzically. "I said, wasn't it nice of Mr. Lazenbee to bring us all of this nice, fresh, homemade sausage?" 

 

Fox and Alex started guiltily. 

 

"Uh...yes," Fox managed. 

 

"Nice," Alex squeaked, his eyes locked on the panful of sausage. "Really n-nice." 

 

Walter raised his eyebrows at them. 

 

"I think maybe you two need to finish waking up," he said with a grin. "Go on, sit down at the table and have some juice and coffee." 

 

Reluctantly, Alex and Fox made their way over to the table and sat down across from Mr. Lazenbee. The old man took no notice of them. He sipped his coffee, holding up his cup to be topped off when Walter brought the pot over. Walter obliged Mr. Lazenbee, being sure to supplement the coffee with a bump of whiskey. Walter set coffee and juice in front of Alex and Fox and went back to his cooking. Alex and Fox watched in horrified fascination as Walter leaned over the frying pan, inhaling the spicy aroma rapturously. 

 

"Like I told ya Walt," Mr. Lazenbee said smugly. "Best in the valley." 

 

"That's the truth," Walter said, sighing with delight. "I can't thank you enough for bringing this over for us, Mr. Lazenbee. After a week of hotel and airplane food, I'm dying for a good meal." 

 

Alex abruptly had a coughing fit, his wide eyes watering as he gasped for air. Fox pounded him on the back and Walter brought him a glass of water, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right, Alex?" 

 

"Y-yes," Alex managed. "Just...just swallowed the wrong way, I guess." 

 

"Oh," Walter said, returning to the stove. "Drink that water. That ought to fix you up." 

 

"Boy needs a good hot breakfast," Mr. Lazenbee said, leaning forward and peering intently at Alex. Fox instinctively leaned closer to Alex, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Yep," Mr. Lazenbee continued, settling back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. "Nothin' you get at them soopermarkets can come close to good old-fashioned home cookin'." 

 

Both Alex and Fox were beginning to look a little green. Walter pierced one of the fat sausage links with a meat fork and grinned in anticipation. "It's nearly done," he said, obviously looking forward to his breakfast. "I think you're right, Mr. Lazenbee. I'll never be able to eat store-bought sausage again after this. You've spoiled me." 

 

"Yep," Mr. Lazenbee said, his eyes never leaving Fox and Alex. "I'll tell ya somethin', boys. The secret's in the meat. Ya start with good meat, you'll win the blue ribbon every time." 

 

Fox and Alex stared at him, speechless. Walter piled the hot sausage on a plate and rubbed his hands together eagerly. Mr. Lazenbee stood and pushed his chair back. 

 

"Well," he said, "it's been real nice jawin' with ya, Walt. Thank you kindly for the coffee. I reckon I'll head on back home and let y'all get on with your breakfast." 

 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay?" Walter asked as the old man shrugged into his coat. 

 

"Naw," Mr. Lazenbee said, moving slowly toward the door. "I got some things to do back at the house. Thank you just the same, though, boy." He reached for the doorknob. 

 

"Mr. Lazenbee!" Fox said suddenly. "Wait!" The old man turned to look at him. Fox looked at Walter and Alex and then back to Mr. Lazenbee, his eyes wide. Ignoring Walter's questioning look, he plunged ahead. "Um...uh...Mr. Lazenbee, have you heard any more about the missing family? The...the Daltons?" 

 

Mr. Lazenbee scratched his head. 

 

"Well, now, I don't reckon I have," he said. He put his hat on and turned back to the door. "Be seein' y'all." 

 

"Wait!" called Fox again. 

 

"Fox..." Walter said warningly. Seeing an opportunity, Alex jumped in. 

 

"Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," he said carefully, "wh-what do you think happened?" 

 

The old man shrugged and frowned, apparently annoyed with the question. "Tarnation, boy. How should I know? The whole family's nuttier'n a fruitcake. They coulda joined the Moonies for all I know." He opened the back door, letting in a rush of cold morning air. 

 

"Mr. Lazenbee?" Fox hazarded again before the old man could step outside. "B-but what do you think will happen? Do you think the Sheriff will be organizing a search effort by now?" 

 

Mr. Lazenbee turned to Fox with a scowl. 

 

"Jack Pemberton? Hap Pemberton's boy?" he said disdainfully. "That boy couldn't organize a two-car funeral. Well," he said, touching the brim of his hat. "Be seein' y'all." He closed the door behind him, leaving the three men alone in their kitchen. 

 

Fox swallowed hard as Walter stared at him intently. 

 

"Fox? What was that all about?" 

 

"What?" Fox said nervously, avoiding Walter's gaze. "Oh, I...I just thought since Mr. Lazenbee has lived here so long, he might have some...uh...insight...into..." he trailed off, fidgeting a little under Walter's scrutiny. Walter put his hands on his hips. 

 

"What did we talk about before I left for Chicago, Fox?" he asked reprovingly. 

 

"I know, Walter," Fox said, biting his lip. "You said to let it alone and let the authorities deal with it. Sorry." 

 

"And that's what you're going to do, isn't it, Fox? Let the authorities handle this?" 

 

Fox toed the tiles unhappily. "Yes, Walter." 

 

"Good," Walter said. After a moment, he cleared his throat pointedly. Alex and Fox looked at him and instantly felt their stomachs drop at the stern expression on his face. "And another thing..." 

 

"Y-yes, Walter?" they asked, looking at one another uneasily. 

 

Walter held out his arms. "Get over here!" 

 

Fox and Alex laughed, momentarily forgetting their worry, and rushed over to Walter, nearly bowling him over in their enthusiasm. A few moments later, thoroughly hugged, kissed and properly welcomed back, Walter shooed Fox and Alex back to the table where they sat, white-knuckled, watching Walter as he brought the plate of sausages over. He poured himself a glass of juice, grabbed the toast as it popped up from the toaster, rummaged in the refrigerator for the marmalade and sat down, grinning broadly. "This is going to be good," he crowed. "I've been wanting some more of this sausage all week." He looked up at Fox and Alex. "Get your plates. There's plenty for all of us." 

 

Alex and Fox turned pale. 

 

"Uh...n-no thanks," Fox said in a small voice. 

 

Walter looked at him, surprised. "Well, you sure put enough of it away last weekend. Is anything wrong? You're not coming down with something, are you?" 

 

Fox mutely shook his head, his eyes locked on Walter's plate with loathing. 

 

"I don't want any either, Walter," Alex said quickly, his hand grasping Fox's tightly under the table. "In fact, I...uh..." he faltered. 

 

"Well," Walter said absently, picking up his knife and fork. "You two make sure to have something later. But I can't guarantee there'll be any of this left, not as hungry as I am." Grinning ear to ear, Walter eyed the plateful of sausages like a long-lost lover. He speared a sausage link with his fork and sliced off a bite-sized piece, unaware of the agonized looks Alex and Fox were giving him. He raised his fork, opening his mouth, eyes already closed in anticipatory bliss. 

 

"WAIT!" Alex shouted. 

 

Walter started and dropped his fork. It hit the plate with a clatter. 

 

"What?!?" Walter demanded, his eyes wide. "Alex, what on earth is wrong with you?" 

 

"I...I..." 

 

"Alex?" Walter said again, a little more sternly. Alex looked at him, his eyes frantic. 

 

"I...it's just...you can't eat that sausage, Walter!" he blurted. Walter stared at him in amazement. 

 

"Why on earth not?" he said incredulously. 

 

Alex blinked at him. 

 

"Why?" he hedged. 

 

Walter retrieved his fork from his plate. 

 

"Yes," he said evenly. "Why?" 

 

Alex gulped. "Yes!" he said, looking at Fox. Fox looked back at him helplessly. "Um, yes, why," Alex offered, desperately searching for a reason to give their bewildered lover. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "Because," he crowed victoriously, "it's unhealthy!" 

 

Walter stared at him. 

 

"Say again?" he said, scarcely able to believe what he just heard. Alex, after all, was the one who balked the most at Walter's attempts to run a healthful household. Alex would eat chocolate eclairs for breakfast and wash down his vitamins with Cherry Coke if Walter didn't watch him every minute. Now, his suddenly and suspiciously nutrition-conscious Rat sat beaming virtuously at him as if heart-healthy margarine wouldn't melt in his mouth. 

 

"Well, you always tell us how important it is to eat healthily," Alex said. "Doesn't he, Fox?" 

 

"Oh yes," Fox said, nodding vigorously. "All the time." 

 

"You said it's important to eat right," Alex insisted. "You said a poor diet can take years off your life. And that fat and cholesterol can lead to heart disease." Alex fastened his big green eyes on Walter pleadingly, letting his lower lip tremble ever so slightly. "Please Walter," he said, hitting the older man with all the pathos he could muster, "please don't eat that. I need you. We need you." 

 

Walter sat stunned. This was certainly a different side of Alex. Maybe all of his lectures had actually had an effect! 

 

"Now, Alex," Walter said reassuringly, putting down his fork. "I don't think one plate of—" 

 

"Please, Walter!" Alex yelled, jumping up and running around the table. He threw himself into Walter's lap and hung on tight. "You know what you always tell us about eating right! Please don't eat that fatty, greasy sausage. If anything h-happened to you, I c-couldn't...I couldn't bear it..." he buried his face in Walter's neck and sniffled piteously. Walter looked down at him in surprise and wrapped his arms around him. 

 

"Alex, for heaven's sake! It's all right, come on now," he soothed. He kissed Alex's hair softly. "You know I would never do anything that would endanger my health, or yours. That's the great thing about Mr. Lazenbee's sausage. It's all natural and he only uses the leanest cuts of meat. He told me so himself." He set Alex on his feet and cupped his cheek with the palm of one big hand. "Now, we'll hear no more about it. It's not like you to get so overexcited about something so small, Alex. I'm starting to wonder just what's going on around...FOX!" Walter bellowed. 

 

Fox froze, halfway to the sink with Walter's rapidly cooling plate of sausage. He turned, the incriminating evidence in hand, and looked at Walter guiltily. 

 

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Walter demanded. 

 

"About what?" Fox asked innocently, looking anywhere but at Walter. 

 

"My sausage," Walter said pointedly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. 

 

"Oh!" Fox said, looking down at the plate in his hands as though he were seeing it for the first time. "Oh, this? I...I was just..." 

 

Walter pointed to the empty place on the table in front of him, his expression betraying a distinct lack of amusement. Slowly, Fox approached the table and put the plate down in front of Walter. Walter's pointing finger changed position and indicated the two empty chairs across from him. Alex and Fox slunk back to them and sat down meekly. 

 

"All right, you two," Walter said firmly, "I've had a long morning and an even longer week. I've missed you and I know you've missed me, too. I promise to give you my undivided attention, AFTER I've had a hot breakfast." He prodded a sausage link with his fork. "Or at least as close to it as possible." 

 

"But, Walter," Fox attempted. "Wouldn't you like some fresh fruit? You love fresh fruit." 

 

"And we've got plenty of turkey bacon," Alex added brightly. "Wouldn't you like some delicious, crispy—" 

 

"ENOUGH!" Walter boomed. "Now, I don't know what's gotten into the two of you this morning, but whatever it is, it stops now. Do you have any idea just how much time and trouble it took Mr. Lazenbee to make this sausage? Well, do you?" 

 

Alex and Fox blanched and gulped. They were pretty sure they did know. Walter looked at them in exasperation. 

 

"At any rate, he went to a lot of effort to make this sausage and bring it over and I would LIKE to enjoy it in peace. The next one of you to say a word," he said, pointing his fork at them for emphasis, "will eat his breakfast standing up." Satisfied that Alex and Fox were chastened at last, Walter turned his attention back to his plate. He positioned the tines of his fork over a particularly succulent sausage and... 

 

"YAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Alex screamed, flinging himself across the table. His body, encased in his cotton bathrobe, slid across the polished wood like a bobsled, dumping him headfirst into Walter's lap. Walter's plate landed on the floor, scattering sausage links and toast everywhere. 

 

"JESUS CHRIST!" Walter bellowed, his arms full of upside-down Rat. After a moment's struggle, he had the guilty party upright and on his feet. "ALEX!" Walter barked, surveying the ruin Alex had made of his breakfast, "what the hell has gotten into you?!?" 

 

Alex clasped his hands behind his back and hung his head. "Sorry, Walter," he mumbled. "I...I thought I saw a fly." 

 

Walter stared at him, dumbfounded. "You thought you saw a..." He put his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked up at Alex, making sure to include Fox in his thoroughly unamused gaze as well. "I've had just about enough of this," he said to them both, trying hard to keep his voice level. "The two of you seem determined to keep me from enjoying a peaceful, hot breakfast, despite the fact that I have just gotten off a plane where all I had to eat for three hours was a teaspoonful of honey-roasted peanuts. I'm tired, I'm hungry and I am OUT of patience with the both of you." 

 

Alex and Fox stared at the floor miserably. "Yes, Walter," they murmured, relieved now that, no matter what else happened, they had spared Walter from consuming any more of Mr. Lazenbee's macabre offerings. 

 

"Alex, Fox," Walter sighed, "I'm very disappointed in you both. I purposely took an earlier flight so I could get home to you as quickly as possible. I had planned on us having breakfast in bed and spending all morning upstairs together. Instead, you've gone out of your way to provoke me." 

 

Fox and Alex were both biting their lips, near tears. Alex, in particular, looked heartbroken and forlorn, his eyes swimming the moment Walter said he was disappointed. Of course, Alex knew he would be, but hearing it said out loud cut him to the quick. 

 

"I'm really sorry," Alex said softly. He looked up at Walter. "Please don't be mad, Walter." 

 

"Don't be mad?" Walter asked, throwing his arms wide. "Alex, I'm not mad at you or at Fox, but I am mad at what you've done. The two of you have exhibited some strange, defiant and downright unacceptable behavior this morning. I don't know what started it but I can tell you, I am going to finish it. Now." He turned to Fox. "Fox, would you please clean up this mess? And when you're done with that, I would very much appreciate it if you would make me some bacon and scrambled eggs." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Fox said, quickly grabbing the roll of paper towels from the kitchen counter and kneeling on the tile floor. He used the paper towels to pick up the cold sausages, grimacing even as he tried not to think about what they were. He looked up at Walter worriedly as he worked. Fox's skill at cooking, or lack thereof, was legendary in the Skinner-Mulder-Krycek household. To Fox, the fact that Walter had asked him to cook a new breakfast for him showed just how upset the older man was. 

 

"Alex," Walter said quietly. "Why did you do that?" 

 

Alex shrugged and mumbled. He wished more than anything that he could tell Walter why, that he had done it to save him from eating Mr. Lazenbee's grisly handiwork. A glance at Walter's hurt expression only made Alex's heart ache more. Walter thought Alex was being petulant and demanding. He didn't know— couldn't know—that there was a very real and urgent reason why Alex had prevented him from eating the breakfast he was looking forward to so eagerly. 

 

"I'm sorry," Alex said again, meaning it sincerely, unable to meet Walter's eyes. He knew Walter was going to punish him and he tried to steel his resolve. I'm so sorry, Walter, he thought. I wish I could tell you the truth. 

 

"I appreciate that, Alex," Walter said. "But the fact remains that you've gone out of your way to provoke a spanking, young man, and I'm going to see to it that you get it." He pushed his chair away from the table and motioned to Alex. Slowly, Alex walked over to Walter and stood in front of him, eyes downcast. Without ceremony, Walter drew Alex down across his lap and lifted up his bathrobe, exposing Alex's smooth, bare cheeks. Fox looked up from his cleaning, his eyes meeting Alex's sadly. His mouth quirked in a expression of sympathy. Alex gave a slight nod and looked down. He gripped the rungs of the chair, waiting for his punishment to begin. 

 

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Alex," Walter said sadly. "Especially when I've only just gotten home. This is not the morning I had planned for us, not at all, but you've left me no choice. I treat you and Fox with respect and consideration and I don't think it's too much to ask that I get the same in return. Your behavior this morning has been rude, inconsiderate and downright disturbing, and I love you too much not to punish you for it." 

 

Alex snuffled, miserable, his face buried in Walter's pantleg. "Sorry," he choked again, almost too quietly to be heard. He was grateful for the warm hand on his back, rubbing his skin through the bathrobe. 

 

"Why do I have to spank you, Alex?" Walter asked quietly. 

 

Alex raised his head. "B-because I didn't listen. Because I didn't stop when you told me to and because I ruined your b-breakfast," he said softly, fighting back tears. "I'm really sorry..." 

 

"So am I," Walter said firmly, raising his hand and bringing it down with an authoritative crack. Alex jumped and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Walter meant business. His utter lack of amusement concerning the morning's events was conveyed thoroughly and effectively to a six-inch square portion of Alex's right buttcheek, which was now stinging mightily. 

 

"Ow..." Alex whimpered. 

 

"Settle down," Walter rumbled. "You're going to have to learn, Alex, that when I say no, I mean no." 

 

The spanking was short but sharp, and while certainly not the most severe Alex had ever received from Walter, it distressed him greatly. When it was over and Walter tugged him up into a tight embrace, Alex wrapped his arms around Walter tightly and sobbed. 

 

"S-sorry," he gasped, burying his face in Walter's shoulder. "Sorry..." 

 

"It's all right," Walter said gently, kissing Alex's damp cheek. "It's all over now. I love you, Rat. You're forgiven." 

 

"Love you too, Walter," Alex mumbled against Walter's shirt. "I don't know if you know how much," he added softly. 

 

Walter smiled and cupped Alex's face in his hands, wiping away the last of Alex's tears with his thumbs. He held an arm out to Fox, who was still trying to get the package of turkey bacon open. Fox put down the bacon and padded over to Walter. Walter embraced them both, making sure each was soundly kissed. 

 

"I do know," he said softly. "Believe me, I do. But," he added, gently but sternly, "if this morning's performance is an indication that I need to provide a little more structure around here, trust me, gentlemen, I can do that." 

 

Fox and Alex looked at one another uneasily. 

 

"No, Walter..." they mumbled. 

 

Walter put Alex on his feet and stood up, giving his two brats his best no-nonsense AD look. 

 

"I am going upstairs to shower," he said. He glanced at the stove and the mangled but still tightly sealed packet of turkey bacon. "Forget about the breakfast, Fox. I'll throw something together for the three of us when I come back downstairs. In the meantime, I want an essay from each of you on world hunger, with emphasis on the reasons why food should never be wasted." 

 

"But, Walter," Alex whined. He'd rather go back over Walter's knee than have to write an essay. 

 

Walter gave Alex a look and walked into the living room, returning with two legal pads and two pens. Ignoring the looks of misery on his brat's faces, he waited while they slowly seated themselves at the table. Placing a pad and a pen in front of each of them, he turned toward the stairs. 

 

"Fifteen hundred words, minimum," he said crisply. "I want a good start by the time I come back downstairs. If you need resource materials, you may use the computer in my study." 

 

Fox and Alex sat alone in the kitchen, staring unhappily at the blank paper in front of them. Fox reached across the table and took Alex's hand in his. 

 

"You ok?" he asked softly. 

 

"Yeah," Alex said, shifting a little in his chair. "It wasn't the spanking so much. Just knowing that he thought we were deliberately defying him, not caring about his feelings..." he trailed off, biting his lip. 

 

"I know," Fox said, squeezing Alex's hand. "But we can't tell him yet. We have to get the evidence together, make sure we can prove it. It's the only way he'll ever believe the truth." 

 

Alex nodded slowly, toying listlessly with his pen. 

 

"What are we going to do about the rest of the sausage?" he asked, glancing at the freezer. "Walter said Mr. Lazenbee brought two pounds over." 

 

"We get rid of it," Fox said, stealthily sliding his chair back. He tiptoed over to the freezer, opened it, and retrieved the plastic bag containing the sausage. "Raw's better for evidence," he said, opening the bag. The meat was not yet hard frozen and he was able to use a butter knife to remove a small sample. "Heat damages the DNA structure." He got out the cling film and wrapped the sample twice for extra protection, then opened the freezer again and hid the evidence behind the frozen carrots. 

 

"Good thinking," Alex whispered. Fox gave him a grateful smile. 

 

"Now," he said, "we just rid of this." He gave the bag of semi-frozen sausage in his hands a disgusted look. Opening the back door, he crept out onto the deck and down the back steps. He lifted the lid of the large rubber trashcan under the deck and buried the bag at the very bottom. Slipping back into the kitchen, he closed the back door carefully and was nearly back to his chair when Walter's voice boomed from upstairs. 

 

"What's going on down there? Doesn't sound like you two are working!" 

 

"Just taking out the trash, Walter!" Fox called back. 

 

"I'd better see at least a page done by the time I'm done with my shower!" Walter shouted from the top of the steps. 

 

"Yes, sir!" Fox said quickly. He glanced at Alex, who was glumly regarding the doodle of a horse he'd just drawn. "Alex, why don't you go down the hall to Walter's study and hop online? Just print out a couple of articles on world hunger so we can get these essays done." 

 

"Okay," Alex said, unenthusiastically. He left the room and returned a few moments later with several sheets of paper from Walter's printer. He handed several of the pages to Fox and sat down gingerly. 

 

"I hate writing assignments," he griped. "I'd rather he just paddled me." 

 

"I know," Fox said, quickly glancing over the material. "And so does he." 

 

"Yeah," Alex sighed, beginning to write. Fox was busily scribbling away, racking up two lines to each of Alex's. Envying Fox's eidetic memory, Alex tried to catch up. He was midway through listing the diseases directly or indirectly linked to malnutrition when Walter came into the room, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked over Fox's and Alex's shoulders, checking to see how much they had written. 

 

"Very good, gentlemen," he said, opening the refrigerator. "Keep going. How does fruit and cereal sound?" 

 

"Fine, Walter," they murmured. 

 

A few minutes later, Alex and Fox were allowed to put their writing assignments aside while they ate breakfast. Walter told them about his trip to Chicago and they found themselves enjoying a leisurely conversation while they finished their meal. After they were done and the dishes were cleared away, Alex and Fox were once again staring at the hated legal pads. Alex was writing steadily, mentally counting the words as he did, when Walter slid a plate in front of him. Alex looked at the two fresh, sticky glazed donuts in surprise and then up at Walter. Walter grinned and captured Alex's mouth in a loud, satisfying kiss. There was an identical grin and kiss for Fox, together with a bowl of sunflower seeds. 

 

"That ought to make it a little more...palatable for you," Walter teased as he headed into the living room. "I want those essays finished in a timely fashion, gentlemen," he called as he settled into his recliner and clicked on the football game. "We've got a week's worth of cuddling to catch up on." 

 

Alex and Fox wrote faster. 

 

 

Fox was enjoying a long, indulgent Sunday morning shower. He turned away from the spray, hissing a little as he did. He grinned. Walter had proven last night that he was very glad to be home, and both Fox and Alex had awoken thoroughly and deliciously sore. As he soaped his chest, Fox thought about Mr. Lazenbee and how close he and Alex were to tightening the noose around the old man's neck. Once the authorities—and Walter—saw the evidence, Mr. Lazenbee would be exposed for the cold-blooded killer he was. The old man's basement dominated Fox's thoughts. He was determined to get down there, one way or the other, and see just what the old man was hiding. Who knew what kind of crazy Norman Bates shi- 

 

"AIIIIIGHHHH!" Fox screamed, collapsing against the tile wall of the shower as the curtain was ripped back. "For God's sake, Alex, you scared the hell out of me!" Alex stood there, obviously in distress, as Fox tried to collect himself. Hurriedly rinsing off the soap, Fox snapped off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, dripping indignantly on the shower mat. 

 

"Walter's gone, Fox," Alex said, his face chalk white. "He's not here." 

 

Fox gave Alex an exasperated look and ran a comb through his wet brown hair. 

 

"So what? He's probably just gone out to get a newspaper. Alex, I know this thing with Mr. Lazenbee has you on edge. Hell, I'm on edge, too. But you can't panic every time..." he trailed off as Alex wordlessly handed him a slip of paper. Fox looked at it, his eyes widening as he read. 

 

Fox and Alex, 

 

I've gone next door to Mr. Lazenbee's. Back in a few. 

 

Love, Walter 

 

"Fox, it's ten o'clock," Alex said urgently. 

 

Fox looked down at the note, then back up at Alex, his expression troubled. "Calm down, Alex," he said slowly, wondering who he was trying to reassure. "Just because Walter went next door doesn't mean—" 

 

"Fox!" Alex yelled, slamming his fist down on the bathroom sink. "The note says 'back in a few'! I remember him kissing me this morning before he went downstairs, I heard the back door when it closed. He's been gone at least three hours!" 

 

"Holy shit," Fox hissed, pushing past Alex into the bedroom. He dropped his towel and began pulling his clothes on over his still-wet skin. "We've got to get over there, Alex." 

 

"Hurry up," Alex said anxiously as Fox yanked his socks up and stepped into his boots. They took the stairs two at a time. They glanced at one another, each knowing what the other was thinking. They made a beeline for the cabinet in Walter's study. Their hearts pounding, they threw it open and pulled out the drawer that held all three men's guns. Walter was strict about their use, particularly where Alex was concerned. They were never to be touched except in an emergency. Alex and Fox reached for them now without hesitation. They grabbed two clips each from the drawer directly below the first and ran for the back door. 

 

Please God, each thought desperately as they pounded across the field toward Mr. Lazenbee's farm. Please not Walter. 

 

They reached the back of Mr. Lazenbee's house in a dead heat and fell against the wall, panting. 

 

"Go," Alex whispered tensely. Fox nodded and inched up the back steps leading to Mr. Lazenbee's back door. He peered through the glass and saw that the kitchen was empty. He tried the knob and cursed under his breath. 

 

"It's locked," he growled. "I'm gonna kick it in." 

 

"Wait!" Alex said urgently. "We've got to get the drop on him. If he's got Walter somewhere in the house..." he faltered, unable to give voice to both men's most horrible fear. Alex swallowed hard and glanced toward the barn. "Wait here," he ordered. 

 

A few moments later, Alex was back, a rusty old file in his hand. "I remembered seeing this in that box of old tools when we were cleaning out the barn last week," he explained, moving past Fox and kneeling down in front of the closed back door. Although the tools available were not ideal, Alex's considerable skill and experience made up for the deficit, and after a moment's work, the old lock was defeated. Cautiously, Alex turned the knob and opened the door. Fox followed him into the kitchen, both men on full alert, their eyes sweeping over the room, missing nothing, desperate for any sign of Walter. 

 

It looked as though, once again, the old man was in the middle of stuffing another huge batch of sausage. Fox's and Alex's stomachs roiled as they passed by the kitchen table, where the large metal bowl sat. Chunks of raw meat floated in greasy water. On the kitchen counter next to the sink sat the meat grinder, obviously in recent use, as were the spice bottles nearby. Suddenly, as he investigated the far corner of the room, Alex gasped. Fox hurried over, his heart lurching as he saw what Alex was looking at. 

 

Walter's boots, the ones Alex had given him at Christmas a couple of years before. And hanging neatly on a hook above them was Walter's down jacket. Fox and Alex stared at one another in horror, their eyes huge, each one thinking the worst. 

 

"Oh, God," Fox whispered, clutching at Alex. "Alex..." 

 

A sudden thump from downstairs jolted them both. Fox's lips pulled back from his teeth. His eyes blazed ferociously. 

 

"Let's get that son of a bitch!" he growled. 

 

Alex's own eyes were glittering slits of fury. "If he's so much as touched him..." 

 

The two men ran toward the basement door, praying they weren't too late. When they reached the door, Fox held up three fingers, giving Alex the count. 

 

Three...two...one... 

 

The door bounced off the wall behind it as Fox tore it open. He and Alex thundered down the stairs, guns drawn. 

 

"FREEZE!" Fox screamed at the slight figure who turned toward them in surprise. Fox's and Alex's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, their hearts pounding in terror. Oh God, Fox thought in anguish. I was right! It's all true, everything I suspected! 

 

The room was dank and cold. More of the mysterious burlap bags, apparently stuffed full, lay in one corner. Huge plastic barrels dotted the cement floor, along with large vats that appeared to contain some sort of liquid. Objects seemed to be floating in the liquid, but it was impossible to tell what they were. Fox put a hand over his nose, trying to shield himself from the pungent smell that permeated the basement room. Alex stood behind him, gun at the ready, his eyes darting back and forth between Fox and the man who had masterminded this chamber of horrors. 

 

"Don't move!" Alex shouted as the figure stepped toward them. What little light there was shone unsettlingly on the rubber apron and thick rubber gloves the man wore. He also wore a pair of black rubber boots, and on his face were a pair of thick plastic goggles. Alex backed up, his gun still trained on the man, and glanced into the corner. There was something there. He nodded at Fox to keep an eye on the suspect and crouched down to get a better look. 

 

He stopped breathing for a moment. 

 

It was a bag of lime, torn open at the top. Leaning against the wall was a shovel, covered in the fine white granules. Alex leapt to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest. He advanced on the figure in the goggles, pointing his gun in the man's face. 

 

"Where's Walter?" he screamed. "Answer me, you bastard! Tell me where he is right now!" 

 

Fox advanced on the man as well, his eyes dark with fury. 

 

"If you've laid one finger on him, so help me, I'll blow you away," he snapped. "Come on, talk, you coward! WHERE IS WALTER?" 

 

"I'm right here." 

 

Fox and Alex gasped and spun around. Walter stood at the bottom of the steps, his mouth hanging open. 

 

"Walter!" Alex and Fox shouted. "Thank God you're all right!" 

 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Walter asked, slowly walking toward them, staring at the guns in Alex's and Fox's hands. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here? You can start with telling me what you're doing with those weapons out." Walter's voice was deceptively calm. Inside, his mind was reeling, his stomach twisting at the sight of Alex and Fox with their guns drawn, obviously prepared to use them. He knew they would never have taken them out of the gun cabinet unless they genuinely believed it was necessary. Walter inched forward, careful to remain in control, the cement floor cool under his stockinged feet. If he took care not to react first and think later, Alex and Fox would follow his example. 

 

"Why don't you ask him?" Fox snarled, gesturing toward the rubber-aproned figure that still stood silently across the room. 

 

"Calm down," Walter said gently, trying to calm Fox. "I want both of you to put those weapons down right now, before someone gets hurt." 

 

Alex and Fox stared at one another, then at Walter. They wanted to obey, but they had to protect him. 

 

"No," Alex said softly, his heart breaking at the hurt and shocked expression on Walter's face. "I'm sorry, Walter. We can't." 

 

"Alex," Walter said, using his toughest Marine voice. "I'm not asking. I'm telling. Both of you put those weapons down NOW." 

 

"Please Walter," Fox begged, turning to look at Walter but keeping his gun trained on the suspect. "Please just let us explain." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee took off his goggles and tossed them aside, then put his hands on his hips. 

 

"Well, I wish y'all would explain it to ME!" he groused. "Walt, what in tarnation is wrong with these boys? They come bustin' in here, pointin' their guns all over the place, actin' plumb crazy. They like to give me a heart attack!" 

 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, holding his hands up placatingly. "I don't know what's going on here but I promise you, I'm going to get to the bottom of it." The look he gave Alex and Fox promised dire consequences. 

 

"Please Walter," Fox said again. "Just listen to us. You know we'd never do anything like this unless it was a matter of life and death!" 

 

Walter gave him a long look. "All right," he said, folding his arms resolutely. "Explain. And it had better be good. AND," he added, as Fox opened his mouth, "while you're talking, I want those weapons pointed at the floor." 

 

Alex and Fox sent scathing looks in Mr. Lazenbee's direction, but slowly lowered their guns. 

 

"He's a murderer, Walter," Fox said, pointing a trembling finger at Mr. Lazenbee. "He killed that missing family and who knows how many more." 

 

Walter's eyes bugged. 

 

"Fox," he said, staring at his younger lover incredulously, "think about what you're saying." 

 

"It's true, Walter," Alex said, glaring at Mr. Lazenbee. "He murdered them and turned them into sausage. And if we hadn't gotten here in time, he'd have done the same to you!" 

 

"Well, if that don't beat all," Mr. Lazenbee said, his crotchety old man's voice creaking. "I heard some tall tales before, but that tears it. Boy, you been watchin' too many of them late night tee-vee shows." 

 

"Don't bother lying, Lazenbee," Fox sneered, pointing his gun at him. 

 

"Fox..." Walter warned. Fox gave him a pleading look but reluctantly lowered his weapon again. 

 

"You're caught, old man," Fox continued, gesturing around him. "The evidence is all here. You may as well come clean." 

 

"What evidence, boy?" Mr. Lazenbee demanded. "What in the world are you carryin' on about?" 

 

"We know it all," Alex said, staring daggers at the old man. "We've seen you. We know you murder your victims, mince their flesh and turn it into sausage, then bury the rest of the remains down here." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee blinked at them. 

 

"Now, looky here," he said, obviously out of patience. "I think y'all have lost your minds, that's what I think. Why, if I'da—" 

 

"Come on, Lazenbee," Fox interrupted angrily. His relief upon finding Walter unhurt strengthened him. He knew what Mr. Lazenbee had done and he was enjoying watching the old man struggle like an insect on a pin. "Just admit it. You get some sort of sick pleasure out of watching other people eat your 'special' sausage, don't you? It's not enough to kill those innocent people, is it? You have to trick others into consuming their flesh!" 

 

"All right, Fox, that's enough!" Walter roared. "I'll tell you something right now, young man, you'd better have some sound evidence to back these accusations up!" 

 

"You want evidence?" Fox tossed back over his shoulder at Walter. "No problem. Where's the walking stick, Lazenbee? Hm? Only need it when other people are watching, is that it?" 

 

Mr. Lazenbee frowned at Fox. "For your information, young man, I got the rheumatism. When the weather's dry like it is today, I don't need the damn stick!" He turned to Walter. "I'll tell you what, Walt. If this is the way young folks talk to their elders today, I don't believe I care for it." 

 

"Don't try to change the subject, Lazenbee!" Alex yelled. "How about all those late nights, eh, old man? Like moving things around your back yard at three o'clock in the morning?" 

 

"We've been watching you, Lazenbee," Fox added, his tone dark and threatening. "You sure keep strange hours. Now, why is that, I wonder?" he added sarcastically. 

 

Mr. Lazenbee flapped his hand at Fox dismissively. "I'm just sorry you all got nothin' better to do than spy on an old man who ain't botherin' nobody," he groused, sitting down in an old straight-backed chair nearby. "It just so happens, Mr. J. Edgar Hoover, that since my Viola Marie died, I cain't sleep so good. I like working in the wee hours. It's quiet and peaceful and nobody around to bother ya." He pursed his lips and regarded Fox and Alex disapprovingly. "Except the two kooks from next door!" he added loudly. 

 

"Don't try to turn this around on us!" Fox shouted. "You know what my definition of a kook is? Someone who makes sausage out of human flesh and serves it to their unsuspecting neighbors!" 

 

Mr. Lazenbee snorted. "And here I thought nobody was nuttier'n my mother-in-law. Well boy, congratulations, you got her beat. I ain't never heard such crazy talk. Ain't no meat goes in my sausage except good old Smithfield pork! Ever'body knows that!" 

 

"Is that so?" Alex asked smugly. "Then why don't we have a look over here at what's in these burlap sacks?" he said, crossing the room and kicking one with his boot. It made a dull thump. "These are like the one we saw you dragging across your back yard in the middle of the night, right?" he asked, smiling maliciously. "Sure look heavy." 

 

"You leave them alone, boy!" Mr. Lazenbee squawked, standing up indignantly. "I didn't say you could touch those!" He looked at Walter. "Walt, I've about run out of patience with these two." 

 

Walter looked at Mr. Lazenbee, then over at Alex and the burlap sacks. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lazenbee. But we need to get this settled one way or the other. Open it, Alex." 

 

Alex gave Mr. Lazenbee a self-satisfied smirk and kicked the bag over. The top opened up, scattering its contents across the cement floor. 

 

The four men stared at what the burlap sack had surrendered. No one said anything for a moment. 

 

"C-cucumbers?" Fox squeaked at last. "Th-those are..." 

 

"That's right, Angela Lansbury," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. "Cucumbers. Maybe you've heard of 'em." 

 

Alex and Fox stared at the vegetables, their eyes wide and uncomprehending. 

 

"But..." Fox attempted. 

 

"I..." Alex began. Together, he and Fox gathered their courage and walked over to one of the vats. They looked at one another, took a deep breath, and looked over the side. 

 

More cucumbers, hundreds of them. 

 

They turned to stare at Mr. Lazenbee, who was standing, eyebrows akimbo. 

 

"Happy?" the old man demanded. "Or maybe you'd like to run me in for cruelty to a vegetable!" 

 

Alex and Fox looked at Mr. Lazenbee. Suddenly, Alex's eyes narrowed. He walked over to the corner by the staircase and returned with the sack of lime. He tossed it on the floor, where it landed in a cloud of white dust. Alex dropped the shovel next to it with a loud clang. 

 

"Maybe you'd like to explain this," he hissed. "A bag of lime and a shovel. You don't have to be a genius to figure out what that's for." 

 

The old man stared at him blankly. 

 

"For disposing of bodies!" Alex prompted, rolling his eyes. "Don't act like you don't know what it's for, old man." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee proved he was no slouch in the eye-rolling department, either. 

 

"God bless a donkey, boy!" he bellowed. "That's pickling lime!" 

 

Now it was Alex's and Fox's turn to stare blankly. 

 

"P-pickling lime?" Alex stammered. 

 

"Pickles, boy! Pickles!" the old man yapped, gesturing at the vats. "I'm makin' pickles! That's what the lime is for. The shovel's for stirrin'. What on earth is wrong with you all?" 

 

"I...uh..." Alex babbled. He looked at Fox. Fox didn't look like he had a very keen grasp of the situation either. 

 

"Looky here now," Mr. Lazenbee snapped. "Don't tell me y'all don't know the County Fair's comin' up! It's the biggest thing in Shenandoah County all year! My pickles took the blue ribbon the last five years runnin'. My sausage took it for the last three. I been workin' day and night the last two weeks to get ready!" 

 

Alex and Fox gulped. The sound was loud in the otherwise silent room. They flinched a little when Walter cleared his throat ominously. Even though Fox and Alex avoided his eyes, they could still feel him looking at them in a way that did not bode well for their backsides. 

 

"S-so," Fox said in a small voice, "where are the Daltons?" 

 

"Well, how the hell should I know?" Mr. Lazenbee shouted, waving his arms. "You seem to be the young man with all the answers around here!" 

 

Just then, there was a commotion at the top of the stairs. Sheriff Pemberton and two of his deputies came clattering down the stairs. 

 

"We got here as soon as we could," Sheriff Pemberton said to Fox. "What's going on here?" 

 

"Ah, Sheriff," Walter said, quickly collecting Fox's and Alex's weapons and putting them aside. "Everything's all right here. There just seems to have been," he eyed Fox and Alex sternly, "a misunderstanding." 

 

"A misunderstanding?" Sheriff Pemberton echoed, pushing his hat back on his head. "We got a call about some murders. Your boy sounded right distraught, Mr. Skinner. Seemed to think you was in some kind of danger." 

 

Walter looked taken aback. Alex swallowed hard and stepped forward. 

 

"We...we thought that..." he looked at Walter helplessly. 

 

"I'm terribly sorry, Sheriff," Walter said quickly. "I promise that nothing like this will happen again." The look he gave Alex and Fox said, clearly, that he meant to make sure of it. 

 

"All right, then," Sheriff Pemberton said. He walked over to Mr. Lazenbee. "Sure everything's okay, Mr. Lazenbee?" He glanced into the nearest vat and his face lit up. "Oh boy! You're making your famous pickles!" He reached into the vat, only to draw his hand back quickly, his mouth a round O of surprise, when Mr. Lazenbee rapped it smartly. "Ow!" 

 

"You stay outta there, Jack Pemberton," Mr. Lazenbee admonished. "They ain't ready yet!" 

 

"Yes, sir," Sheriff Pemberton said meekly. He looked at Walter as he reached the stairs. "Things coulda got outta hand here, Mr. Skinner. Reportin' a murder when there ain't been one just ain't the kinda thing we like to encourage, know what I mean?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter said, shaking Sheriff Pemberton's hand. "I assure you, encouraging is the last thing I intend to do." 

 

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Skinner," the Sheriff said. "Be seein' y'all." 

 

"Sheriff Pemberton, wait!" Fox called, running to the foot of the stairs. "What about the Daltons? Did you find out what happened to them?" 

 

The Sheriff paused in the basement doorway. 

 

"Oh, yeah," he said casually. "The Missus' sister called again. Said she got a postcard from 'em a coupla days ago. They went down to Florida, just like she figured. Y'all have a good day now." 

 

Walter stood at the bottom of the stairs, his arms folded, pinning his brats with an unfaltering gaze. Across the room, Mr. Lazenbee stirred his pickling brine, grumbling to himself about crazy city folk who couldn't leave an old man to pickle in peace. 

 

Walter walked over to Alex and Fox and leaned down, his face about an inch away from theirs. "Don't...move," he growled. He then walked over to Mr. Lazenbee, his face glowing red with embarrassment and anger. He glanced back over his shoulder at his two trembling brats to make sure they were obeying his orders. They stood rooted to the spot, looking like they'd very much like to be just about anyplace else on earth at the moment. 

 

"Uh, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter began. "I...I don't know what to say. I'm so very sorry about what happened. I hope there's some way we can make it up to you." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee stirred silently for a moment, annoyed at having been accused of such outlandish crimes. 

 

"Well," he said at last, "it ain't your fault, Walt. You're a good man. I reckon your boys will be too, one day," he added, emphasizing the last two words. 

 

"Really, Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, all but wringing his hands, "we're all very very sorry. This should never have happened." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee sat down again, took his pipe out of his pocket and chewed the stem thoughtfully. 

 

"You're right about that," he agreed. "But, I reckon there's no harm done, Walt. Looks to me like your boys got a little more imagination than might be good for 'em, is all." 

 

"Yes, sir," Walter said, looking at Alex and Fox, obviously far from pleased. "Alex? Fox? I think you have something to say to Mr. Lazenbee, don't you?" 

 

Like penitent schoolboys, Alex and Fox shuffled over to Mr. Lazenbee, their eyes on the floor. 

 

"We're really sorry, sir," Alex said contritely. His face burned. "We never should have said the things we said." 

 

"We're sorry," Fox echoed, humiliated and ashamed. "For everything." 

 

Walter put a hand on each of their shoulders and turned them toward the stairs. 

 

"I think it's best that we go on home now," he said quietly to Mr. Lazenbee. "May I call you later on this evening? I'd like to talk to you further about this, find some constructive ways in which we can compensate you for all the trouble." 

 

"Sure, Walt, give me a call," the old man said, filling his pipe from his pouch of tobacco. "I'll be here." He lit his pipe and puffed it thoughtfully. 

 

"Uh, Mr. Lazenbee?" Fox hazarded nervously. 

 

"Fox," Walter rumbled, his hand tightening warningly on Fox's shoulder. "I think we've taken up enough of Mr. Lazenbee's time this morning." 

 

"Please?" Fox asked, looking at Mr. Lazenbee pleadingly. "I just have to know," he said, gulping a little as he gestured around the room. "Why do you make your pickles in the basement? Why all the secrecy?" 

 

Fox knew he was pushing his luck but he couldn't help himself. If the look on Walter's face was any indication, his butt was on borrowed time. But Fox's inquisitive mind just wouldn't let him leave until all of his questions were answered. 

 

"Come on, Fox," Walter said. "Time to go." 

 

"Naw, Walt, it's all right," Mr. Lazenbee said with a wave of his hand. "Y'all seen everything already anyway. I reckon y'all can keep a secret." Even though the four men were alone in the basement, he still glanced around conspiratorially before continuing. "My great-grandma was Magnolia Philpott Lazenbee, the pickle queen of Shenandoah County." He paused to let the grave import of this knowledge sink in. 

 

Walter, Alex and Fox stared at him blankly. Mr. Lazenbee pursed his lips. City folk! Move to a place and don't bother to learn a thing about its history. He picked up the shovel again, stirring while he talked. 

 

"Nobody could make pickles like my Great-grandma," he said, his eyes growing moist at the memory. "Ever' year when it was time for the County Fair, ever'one knew she was gonna take the blue ribbon. All the ladies in Shenandoah County tried their level best to out-pickle her, but none of 'em ever could. People come from miles around to taste her pickles, and ever' one of 'em went home with a jar of their own, just so the folks at home could have a taste of heaven, too." 

 

Mr. Lazenbee was silent for a moment, gazing down into the briny depths as he remembered those long-ago days. 

 

"Before she died, she give me the recipe. I was just about knee-high to a grasshopper, but she pressed that piece of paper into my hand and made me promise never to share it with another living soul," he said, as Fox opened his mouth to speak. Fox closed his mouth abruptly. Mr. Lazenbee sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at the three men meaningfully. "Plenty of folks 'round here would give their eyeteeth for that recipe," he said, nodding wisely. "They been tryin' to get their paws on it for over a hundred years. That's why I make sure to keep ever'thing locked up tight." 

 

Fox swallowed. "Wow," he breathed. "That's it? That's why you got so upset when Alex and I were going to come down here?" 

 

"Yep," the old man said, giving the pickles a final stir before leaning the shovel up against the vat. "Cain't afford for word to get out. That's why I bring my cucumbers in after dark. If folks even think I'm makin' a batch, there ain't much they wouldn't do to try to get a peek at the process." 

 

"Mr. Lazenbee," Alex said hesitantly. "We never...I mean, we really thought Walter..." 

 

"Yeah," Fox said, overcome with remorse. "I...I didn't think..." 

 

"I suspect you will next time," the old man said with a sly glance toward Walter. "I know one thing. If'n I'da ever pulled a stunt like this, my Daddy'd a'had me out to the woodshed." 

 

The twin gulps were loud in the quiet basement. 

 

"We'll just see ourselves out, sir," Walter said, propelling Alex and Fox up the stairs. "Goodbye, Mr. Lazenbee." 

 

They paused in the kitchen so Walter could put his boots on. Alex and Fox stood fidgeting by the door, giving one another increasingly worried looks. Neither of them could remember ever seeing Walter this angry, or this hurt. 

 

"We...we saw your boots here when we came in, Walter," Fox said softly. "We thought—" 

 

"I left my boots in the kitchen," Walter said tightly, slipping into his coat, "because I washed the cars this morning. The area around our driveway was muddy and I didn't want to track the mud all over Mr. Lazenbee's house." He opened Mr. Lazenbee's back door. "Let's go. I don't want to hear another word out of either of you until we get home." 

 

Silently, trying not to think about what was to come, Alex and Fox followed Walter across the field like scolded puppies, their heads down and their hands in their pockets. 

 

Each had the feeling that it was going to be a long, long afternoon. 

 

 

Walter walked across the back deck and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket. He opened the back door and Alex and Fox filed silently past him into the kitchen. Walter closed the door and immediately went into his study, where he returned Fox's and Alex's weapons to the cabinet. He returned to the kitchen where his brats stood, heads down, expecting to be sent to their respective corners to await the punishment they had unquestionably earned. Their buttocks clenched nervously at the thought. Since the three men had entered into their discipline relationship, Alex and Fox had required correction on many occasions. But standing now in the sunny kitchen, shifting from foot to foot under Walter's stern gaze, both men were keenly aware that they had never been in more serious trouble. 

 

Finally, Walter spoke, his voice low and quiet. 

 

"I'm going for a walk." 

 

Fox and Alex looked up in surprise. 

 

"Walter?" Alex said, unsure. His expression betrayed how troubled he was at this change in routine. 

 

"Do...do you want us in our corners?" Fox asked softly. 

 

Walter turned and opened the door. 

 

"Do whatever you think is best," he said abruptly. He walked out, closing the door behind him. 

 

Alex rushed to the door and stared through the window, one hand against the glass. 

 

Fox stood behind him, distraught, watching as Alex stood silently, the muscles in his back taut and tense under his shirt. 

 

"Alex?" Fox said hesitantly. 

 

Alex didn't turn around. He kept his back turned to Fox, staring after Walter's retreating figure. 

 

Fox moved a little closer, biting his lip anxiously. 

 

"Alex?" he said again. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you. I just got caught up in everything and I got you involved and I...I shouldn't have. Please don't be angry with me. I didn't mean for you to get into trouble." 

 

Alex didn't speak. He continued to look through the window. Walter was now a dark speck in the distance, walking south toward the stream. 

 

"Alex?" Fox asked again, his voice trembling. He reached out to touch Alex's shoulder, then faltered. "Please? I'm sorry. I'm—" 

 

Suddenly, Alex turned and flung himself into Fox's arms. He buried his face in Fox's shirt, clinging to him tightly. Startled, Fox put his arms around him. 

 

"Alex," he whispered, stroking the younger man's hair gently. "Hey, it's all right," he added awkwardly. Alex wrapped himself around Fox even more tightly. Fox could feel him shaking. Alex lay his head on Fox's shoulder, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room. 

 

Fox held Alex close, rubbing circles on his back the way Walter did. He felt Alex relax slightly. Finally, Alex spoke, his voice soft and hoarse. 

 

"He's really mad." Fox felt Alex's fingers tighten around a handful of his shirt. 

 

"Yeah," Fox said softly, rubbing Alex's back a little harder. "He's upset. But it's going to be okay." 

 

Alex swallowed hard. Another few moments passed before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. 

 

"He's coming back." It was more a question than a statement. He pressed his face against Fox's shoulder, his words muffled against the material. "Please. Say he will." 

 

Fox looked down at Alex in surprise. 

 

"Of course he will, Alex," he said, aghast. 

 

Alex stood shaking, his face hidden, desperate to believe Fox but frightened at the same time. What if Fox was wrong? What if they had finally pushed Walter too far? 

 

"Alex," Fox said gently, cupping Alex's chin and forcing him to look up. "Walter is coming back. I promise. You know he'd never leave us." 

 

Alex looked toward the door, then back at Fox, his green eyes troubled. 

 

"He never did this before," he said softly. Walter always applied plenty of structure when it came to discipline. They waited in their corners for Walter to call them. The infraction was discussed, the appropriate punishment was meted out, then they were forgiven. The routine never varied, and that constancy gave Alex and Fox the security and comfort they needed as they accepted the consequences of their actions. 

 

Alex was right. Walter hadn't ever done this before. Fox's eyes stung and his stomach tied itself in knots as he thought about what he had done. Obviously, Walter needed time to calm down before he dealt with the matter at hand. Fox broke out in a light sweat as he thought about the punishment to come. He looked at Alex, who was still looking at him searchingly, mutely pleading for reassurance. Fox swallowed past the lump in his throat and pulled Alex close again, touched that Alex was turning to him for comfort in Walter's absence. Fox kissed Alex gently, putting his own worries aside for the moment. Alex needed him, needed to know that everything would be all right in the end. 

 

"Alex, listen to me," Fox said gently, making sure to keep eye contact with Alex as he spoke. "I'm not going to lie to you. We're in trouble. BIG trouble. When Walter gets back—and he is coming back—he is going to blister our butts. I hope you're looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner because it's probably going to be the next meal we get to eat sitting down. But," he added, managing a small, encouraging smile, "no matter how upset or disappointed Walter may be, he would never, ever leave us. You know that, don't you?" 

 

Alex looked down for a moment, then nodded slightly. 

 

"Yeah," he whispered, with another anxious glance toward the back door. "I just feel so bad, Fox. Like he can't even stand to look at us. Like he just had to get away from us." 

 

"He just needs some time," Fox said, his voice steady and calm. He was, he had to admit to himself, a little worried about Walter's behavior. But a sense of peace came over him as he comforted Alex. Walter was coming back. He would always come back. "He's doing this for us, you know," he said, smoothing Alex's hair back out of his eyes. "He's taking time out to cool down. That's all, Alex. I promise." 

 

Alex was quiet for a moment and then nodded, offering Fox a brief smile. Fox saw some of the tension leave Alex's shoulders and knew his words had sunk in. 

 

"I think we should be in our corners when Walter gets back," Fox said quietly. "Okay?" 

 

"Okay," Alex said, fingering the hem of his shirt nervously. "Should we leave our clothes on or...?" 

 

"I think so," Fox said. "Walter might be a while getting back." 

 

Alex nodded and the two men walked into the living room. Fox walked toward his corner. He felt a tug on his sleeve and paused. 

 

"Fox?" Alex said, his expression worried. "Don't...don't tell Walter I asked, okay? Please." 

 

"I won't tell him, Alex," Fox replied. He put himself in his corner. "I think you should be the one to do that," he added gently, before turning and facing the wall. 

 

Alex put himself in his corner, between the fireplace and the kitchen door. He was glad he'd told Fox about his fears. He knew Fox was right. Walter would never leave them. He felt badly for doubting Walter, even for a moment. Alex hugged himself and stared at the wall for a moment, then looked toward the kitchen. 

 

If he craned his neck a little, he could see the back door. 

 

 

Walter closed the back door behind him. The kitchen was empty. He had taken a long walk around their property, giving himself time to cool down. Act, Walter, he thought to himself. Don't react. Walking away from Fox and Alex had been difficult, but it was also necessary. He had never punished them in anger before and didn't intend to start now. 

 

Walter toed off his boots, lost in thought. What had started out as a peaceful autumn morning helping a neighbor had turned into a disaster. He shook his head as he unzipped his jacket. What on earth had gotten into Fox and Alex? He took off his glasses and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was annoyed, there was no doubt about it. He only hoped it would be possible to make amends to Mr. Lazenbee. In the meantime, he had two brats that needed to learn a thing or two. 

 

Walter intended to make sure the lesson was remembered. 

 

He glanced briefly toward the stairs and then headed into the living room. He paused in the doorway, his eyes soft as he gazed at his two brats, each standing humbly in his corner. Walter smiled approvingly, his heart full of love for his undoubtedly nervous brats. In his absence, they had done what they knew he would have expected them to do. The afternoon was going to be a long and difficult one for all three of them, but they had taken a small step in the right direction. 

 

"Alex, Fox," Walter said quietly. Two somber faces lifted and turned to look at him. Walter held out his arms. Alex and Fox rushed into them, inhaling his scent, surrounding themselves with him. Relief rolled off them in waves. Walter hugged them close and they stood silently, just being together, each gripped with unspoken emotion. 

 

"We're sorry, Walter," Alex whispered. 

 

"It was my fault, Walter," Fox said, his eyes bright with tears. "I—" 

 

"We're not going to discuss this in the living room," Walter said firmly. "Into the study, please, gentlemen." 

 

Obediently, Alex and Fox followed Walter through the kitchen and down the hallway to the study. 

 

 

Walter sat behind his desk, contemplating the two young men who sat facing him, perched on the edges of the matching wing chairs. Walter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He put the glasses back on and looked at Fox and Alex, making sure he had full eye contact from them both before he spoke. 

 

"I hardly know where to begin," Walter said sternly. "Shall I start with your blatant disregard for my explicit instructions regarding the Dalton family's disappearance? I seem to remember telling you to let the authorities handle it. That is what I said, isn't it, Fox?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Fox said meekly. 

 

"And you told me that you would, as I recall," Walter said, eyeing Fox and Alex intently. "However, it would seem that instead of keeping your word, you and Alex went behind my back and began your own investigation. An investigation that, despite your not being privy to all the facts of the case, ended with you making a very serious accusation against an innocent man." 

 

"Walter, please," Fox said anxiously, glancing at Alex. "Please don't hold Alex responsible for my actions. He didn't want to do it. He tried to tell me—" 

 

"And you should have listened, Fox," Walter interjected. "Alex was present the morning the Sheriff stopped by. He heard me tell you to leave it alone. He knew perfectly well how I felt about the situation. I know you can be persuasive, Fox, but Alex is a grown man and he knows right from wrong. Wouldn't you agree, Alex?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said softly. "Walter's right, Fox. I was wrong, too. I should get the same punishment as you." 

 

Fox nodded reluctantly, squeezing Alex's hand apologetically. Alex gave him a reassuring nod and moved a little closer to him, each giving strength to the other. 

 

"Now that we've determined culpability," Walter rumbled, pinning them both to his chairs with a stern look, "we can move on to your complete disregard for Mr. Lazenbee's privacy. It would seem the two of you spent a good deal of time last week spying on the man. Am I correct in my assumption that, in the course of your illicit investigation, you felt you had to sneak onto his property in order to get a better look?" 

 

Alex and Fox exchanged guilty glances. 

 

"Yes, Walter," they mumbled. 

 

"We've discussed the issue of trespassing before, in some detail," Walter said thoughtfully. "I thought I had made myself quite clear on the subject, but it would appear that was a hasty conclusion on my part." 

 

Alex and Fox gulped and said nothing. 

 

"And speaking of hasty conclusions," Walter said, mentally racking up the charges against the two miscreants who sat, fidgeting, before him, "I suppose I can attribute your assault on my breakfast yesterday to this nonsense?" 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, staring down at his hands. "I'm sorry for ruining your breakfast, but," he added, looking up at Walter entreatingly, "we really thought it was...we just couldn't stand to watch you eat that," he said softly. "We were trying to protect you." 

 

"Just like you were trying to protect me this morning?" Walter prompted gently. 

 

"Yes," Alex said, blinking back tears. "I know we were wrong, Walter. We messed up. We shouldn't have done what we did. But when we went in there today, we really thought that you were in danger. We thought that he might...that he would...h-hurt you." Alex's voice was a bare whisper. He looked up at Walter, his eyes haunted, troubled still by the sick feeling he'd had in his stomach when he'd raced down the basement steps, terrified of what he might find. "Or worse." 

 

"I understand that, Alex," Walter said softly. "Fox, you too. I know you would never have done what you did if you weren't genuinely worried. But," he said a bit more firmly, "none of this would have happened if you'd simply come to me in the first place." He placed his hands flat on the desk and looked sternly at each of them, in turn. "Why not just tell me of your suspicions? We could have talked about it and avoided all of this." 

 

"I didn't think you would believe us," Fox said. "I wanted to gather as much evidence as I could first, but...but things just seemed to get out of control." 

 

"You should have come to me, Fox," Walter said quietly, the hurt evident in his brown eyes. "I thought we could talk to each other about anything. Don't you trust me?" 

 

Fox looked down, his eyes swimming. "Yes," he said softly. "I really do, Walter, I swear. I guess I just...I guess I wanted to show that I haven't lost my edge. That I can still solve a case." He looked up at Walter guiltily. "I'm sorry, Walter. I wasn't thinking about you or Mr. Lazenbee or even the Daltons. I was thinking about me. About making the collar and impressing everyone with my brilliance." He hung his head, his face bright red with shame and embarrassment. 

 

"Fox," Walter said quietly. Fox looked up and was surprised to see Walter smiling tenderly. "I think that's a very perceptive bit of profiling, don't you?" Fox looked at Walter, unsure for a moment if the older man was teasing him, but found only love and understanding shining from Walter's eyes. 

 

"Yeah, I guess so," Fox said, smiling a little in spite of himself. He looked down again, disgusted with his own behavior. He'd been so worried about nailing Mr. Lazenbee and impressing Walter and Alex and the local police with his steel trap of a mind and uncanny profiling abilities, he hadn't stopped to consider the consequences if he turned out to be wrong. 

 

Wrong, Fox? he thought to himself sarcastically. Oh no, that can't happen, right? Fox Mulder, the brilliant, Oxford-educated profiler can't possibly be wrong. Fox slumped dejectedly in his chair. He'd been so arrogant, so selfish, continuing merrily on his destructive little orbit through his own self-absorbed universe, never once stopping to think how his actions affected anyone else. He looked up, his gaze resting briefly on Walter. Walter, his tough, patient, loving Top, finally home after a week away and unable even to enjoy it. Forced to spend a beautiful Autumn afternoon doing damage-control and meting out discipline after Fox had managed to wreak havoc with his theories, his suspicions and his refusal to believe anyone else could possibly be right. 

 

Fox turned to look at Alex. Poor Alex, who had tried fruitlessly to talk some sense into Fox but had ended up instead hopelessly embroiled in this mess, and who was now going to be punished alongside the one responsible for it all. 

 

"I'm sorry, Walter, Alex," Fox choked, unable to look either of them in the eye. "I was selfish and arrogant and I'm...I'm just sorry. For everything." 

 

Alex stood and leaned down, hugging Fox tight. 

 

"Don't say that, Fox," he said, his husky voice full of emotion. "Don't do this to yourself. Your heart was in the right place. I know it was." 

 

Walter stood and walked around the desk, kneeling down beside Fox's chair. 

 

"Alex is right," he said gently. "You did disobey me. You both did," he added. He looked up at Alex and, seeing his remorseful nod, continued. "You acted impulsively and without thought for the way it would affect others, and you will be punished for that. But Fox," he said, pulling Fox in for a tight embrace, "the reason for punishment is to help you learn. And what you've said just now shows me that you're already learning from what's happened. I know you regret it and I know that it won't happen again." 

 

"No, Walter, it won't," Fox said against Walter's shoulder. "I promise." 

 

"Good," Walter said, rising and returning to his chair. "Now. We've covered the disobedience, the dishonesty, the invasion of privacy. I hope you two realize how serious this is. You went off, on your own, and launched an investigation that resulted in your bursting into Mr. Lazenbee's basement with loaded firearms. It's just fortunate that no one was hurt," he added sternly. 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox murmured hastily. 

 

"I understand that you were genuinely concerned for my safety," Walter said. "But the fact remains that, if you had obeyed me in the first place, that concern never would have existed. The situation this morning was a very dangerous one. Mr. Lazenbee is a very elderly man and your actions could have had harmful results. As it is, we're fortunate that no permanent harm was done except for, possibly, our relationship with our closest neighbor." 

 

Alex and Fox studied the carpet miserably. "Yes, Walter." 

 

"I know Mr. Lazenbee can be difficult. But he's been a good neighbor to us and he didn't deserve to be treated the way he was today. I am going to do everything in my power to restore his confidence and trust in us and so are you. Is that clear?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, a second ahead of Fox. "We're really sorry, Walter." 

 

"I know," Walter said, not unkindly. "But, unfortunately, that doesn't change things." He stood and crossed the room to the closet. He returned to his desk and stood beside it. 

 

Alex's and Fox's hearts sank at the sight of the rattan cane in his hands. 

 

"Oh, no, Walter," Alex breathed in spite of himself, unsure what was more upsetting to him, the fact that he was going to be caned, or the fact that the situation was grave enough to warrant it. Walter rarely used the implement, and then only for the most serious offenses. Alex could remember only two or three prior occasions when the cane had left its place in Walter's study closet. 

 

"I'm sorry, Alex," Walter said grimly. "I don't like it any more than you do, but your behavior leaves me no alternative. You've earned the full dozen, both of you, and you know that." 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex said softly, his eyes already brimming. 

 

"Let's get this over with, gentlemen," Walter said, steeling himself for the unhappy task at hand. "Pants and boxers down and bend over, please." 

 

Slowly, Fox and Alex dropped their jeans and boxers to their knees and bent over Walter's desk, gripping the edge tightly. Walter stood behind them, his heart heavy, wishing they could be doing anything else in the world right now. His eyes passed over the two smooth, white bottoms he cherished. He hated having to mark them, hating having to hear his lovers' cries. He felt himself wavering slightly and straightened his spine, admonishing himself to remember his duty. They need you, Walter, he thought to himself sternly. Stop thinking of yourself and think of them. 

 

"Are we clear on what this punishment is for?" Walter asked. "Fox?" 

 

"For disobeying you when you said to let the authorities handle the Dalton investigation," Fox said, his eyes shut tightly. "For being dishonest and sneaking around instead of telling you the truth." 

 

"Yes, that's right, Fox," Walter said, resting his hand on Fox's back gently. He moved on to Alex. "Alex? Why are you and Fox getting a caning?" 

 

"F-for trespassing on Mr. Lazenbee's land and spying on him," Alex gulped, his knuckles white as he clung to the desk. "For accusing him of something horrible when we didn't have any real evidence, and for creating a dangerous situation where someone could have been badly hurt or...or worse." 

 

"That's right, Alex," Walter said, caressing his hair briefly. "I think you both have a clear understanding of what you did wrong. I'm truly sorry that we have to do this. I don't like having to cane you. But a situation this serious calls for serious consequences." He paused and cleared his throat, hefting the cane in his hand. "Twelve strokes each, gentlemen, and I want you counting loud and clear. Fox, you get the first stroke." 

 

The sound of the cane landing on bare skin was loud in the closed room. Fox gritted his teeth, trying not to swear as the line of fire blazed across his naked bottom. 

 

"One," he gasped. 

 

"Alex, you're next," Walter said, positioning himself behind him. The cane swooshed through the air and painted a red line across Alex's white cheeks. 

 

"One!" Alex yelped. "Ow..." He felt Fox's hand on his and clung to it gratefully. 

 

The cane split the air again. 

 

"Two," Fox groaned. 

 

Walter spaced the strokes evenly, alternating between Fox and Alex, careful not to damage the skin while making sure the cane landed with maximum sting. He wanted his brats to think twice before doing anything like this again. 

 

"N-nine," Alex whimpered, his voice catching. "Oh, God, Walter, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" 

 

"Stay with me, Alex," Fox urged, even as he received his tenth stroke. "Ow...Jesus..." He lay his head on the desk, sweat beading on his forehead. His butt was throbbing in time to his heartbeat. Damn, it hurt! He knew he deserved it but it was hard to stay still. He looked at Alex, gripping his hand more tightly. "Come on, Rat. Almost there." 

 

"Count, Fox," Walter prompted. 

 

"Sorry, Walter," Fox said, wincing. "Ten." 

 

The cane landed again, this time along the soft undercurve of Alex's buttocks. 

 

"T-ten," Alex gasped. He put his head down and sobbed. "Please, Walter, please..." 

 

"Look at me, Alex," Fox urged. Slowly, Alex turned his face toward him, his eyes wet. "I'm sorry," Fox said, his own eyes spilling over. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry." 

 

"Shhh," Alex said, managing a smile. He squeezed Fox's hand. "I love you, Fox." 

 

Walter stood watching them with moist eyes. 

 

"I love you both," he said. "I'm proud of you for taking your punishment so well, and for helping each other through it. You've only had ten strokes each but I'm going to let you decide. Do you think you've learned your lesson?" 

 

Alex and Fox looked at one another, the tears sparkling in their eyelashes. 

 

"Yes, Walter," they both said at once. 

 

"Then we're done," Walter said, relieved. He tossed the cane aside and Fox and Alex straightened up, grimacing a little as their sore bottoms protested. They looked down at the jeans and boxers pooled around their ankles. They looked at one another and stepped out of them, leaving themselves naked from the waist down. Walter gathered them gently in his arms and held them. 

 

"I hated doing that," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. 

 

"I know," Fox said, burying his face in Walter's shirt. The material was rapidly soaked with tears. "We both know." 

 

"Love you, Walter," Alex said, clinging to them both. "We both do. We're sorry." 

 

"So sorry," Fox echoed, his chest hitching. "I love you. I won't do it again, I promise." 

 

"I know you won't," Walter answered softly, holding them close. "I love you both, more than anything. I love you enough to punish you when you need it, even if it breaks my heart to do it." 

 

Walter's soft words broke the last of Alex's and Fox's defenses and they both sobbed hard, releasing the last of the tension and anxiety that had built up over the last week. Walter was safe. The Daltons were safe. And their cranky old neighbor was just that, and nothing more. 

 

 

Epilogue: 

 

Alex and Fox lay facedown on the huge bed, their heads resting on fat goosedown pillows. Walter sat cross-legged between them, the jar of aloe cream in his hand. He alternated between Alex and Fox, gently smoothing the thick, cooling cream on their tender bottoms. 

 

"Ahhh, Walter," Alex breathed as Walter's surprisingly gentle fingers caressed his hot, red skin. "That feels so good..." 

 

"Be still now," Walter mock-growled, taking another dollop of cream on his finger. "If you're not still, I might...slip...and..." His finger, loaded with cream, trailed down Alex's crack and dipped inside him, teasing his hole with a delicate flick. 

 

"Oh, Walter!" Alex yelled, clutching the pillow. "Oh my God...more..." 

 

"Naughty," Walter said, smiling as he dealt Alex's bottom a very light swat. "You're being punished, don't forget." 

 

"No, Walter," Alex said humbly into the pillow. "I won't forget." The stinging in his backside, despite the soothing cream, guaranteed he wouldn't. 

 

"Can you remind me too?" Fox asked pitifully, thrusting his well-striped bottom in the air. 

 

Walter dealt him a gentle swat of his own. "There." 

 

"Walter..." Fox pouted. 

 

"All right," Walter said, creaming Fox's bottom, inside and out. Fox gasped and bucked against the bedclothes. He and Alex both groaned when Walter put the lid back on the jar and stood up. 

 

"Aw, come on, Walter," Fox complained, resting on his elbows. "You can't get us all hot and bothered and then just walk away!" 

 

"Can't I?" Walter said, putting the jar down on the nightstand. "Like I said, you're being punished." 

 

He watched, willing himself to stop smiling as his brats tried to out-pout one another. 

 

"All right, you two," he said after a moment, eyeing them sternly. "We need to discuss the rest of your punishment." 

 

"But Walter," Alex whined. "We got a caning!" 

 

"Yes, you did," Walter said. "But believe me, you're not done yet. First," he said, raising an eyebrow at the younger men as they opened their mouths to protest further, "you can consider yourself grounded indefinitely. You can leave your car keys on the desk in my study. You will not leave this house, even to go into the back yard, without me." He regarded Alex's and Fox's crestfallen faces. "You can use this time to contemplate the importance of respecting other people's property, and their privacy." 

 

"Yes, Walter," Alex and Fox mumbled unhappily. 

 

"Second," Walter continued sternly, making sure he had his brats' undivided attention, "I am going to ask Sheriff Pemberton to advise me of exactly how much money this morning's incident cost the taxpayers of Shenandoah County, right down to fuel, mileage on the cruisers, and man-hours. And you are going to each write a check to the Sheriff's Department for half of that amount, which you will then hand deliver, along with sincere, humble letters of apology. Is that clear?" 

 

"Yes, sir," Alex and Fox replied dutifully, feeling rather sorry for themselves. 

 

Walter read their faces as clearly as if the thoughts were printed on their foreheads. Well, he thought to himself, they only think they feel sorry for themselves now. Wait until they hear what's next. 

 

"When you two came up here to lie down, I made a phone call to Mr. Lazenbee," Walter said, almost casually. "I apologized to him again for the inexcusable behavior he was subjected to this morning. I made a suggestion regarding restitution and he found it more than satisfactory." 

 

Alex and Fox exchanged worried looks. 

 

"Y-you did?" Fox asked nervously. 

 

"I certainly did," Walter answered calmly, folding his arms. "For the next month, you and Alex will help Mr. Lazenbee on his farm, every day. He wants to fence in his south pasture and I think a few weeks cutting wood, digging postholes and stringing wire will be very educational for you." 

 

"But Walter—" 

 

"Not another word," Walter said sternly. "You have some serious amends to make, gentlemen, and you know it. My advice is to take this experience and learn as much as you can from it. You will be on time and you will work hard. You will be polite, courteous and obedient. Is that understood?" 

 

Alex and Fox looked down miserably. "Yes, Walter." 

 

Walter sat down on the edge of the bed. 

 

"Good," he said softly. "I know you'll do your best." 

 

"Walter?" Alex said hesitantly. "I...I have to tell you something." 

 

"Do you want me to go?" Fox asked. 

 

"No," Alex answered, grabbing Fox's hand. "Please stay." 

 

Fox nodded, moving closer to Alex for moral support. 

 

"What is it, Alex?" Walter asked, concerned by the distress on Alex's face. 

 

"When you left this morning...when you went for a walk," Alex began, not looking at Walter, "I was...I was worried." 

 

"Worried about what, Alex?" Walter prompted. He felt he knew what Alex wanted to say, but felt it was important for Alex to say it himself. 

 

"I was worried you...that we made you so mad that you...wouldn't want to come back," Alex said softly. "I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, mortified at what he had said, unable to look at the pain that must surely be on Walter's face. 

 

Walter's hand gently tilted his face upward. Alex opened his eyes and looked into warm brown eyes, shining with love and understanding. 

 

"I'm glad you told me that, Alex," Walter said gently. "It's important that we're honest with one another, isn't it?" 

 

"Yes," Alex said, rubbing his cheek against Walter's palm, loving the feeling of Walter's skin against his. He sighed. He did feel better for telling Walter the truth. 

 

"I'm sorry I worried you, Alex," Walter said, looking into Alex's eyes. "But I hope that you know why I needed to take some time this morning. I just needed some time to calm down and think things through. I did it for you as well as for me. You and Fox trust me to guide you, to give you the boundaries and the discipline you need, and I won't abuse your trust by making decisions in the heat of the moment." 

 

"I know, Walter," Alex said, smiling. "I'm sorry I doubted you, even for a second. I know you'd never leave us, no matter what." 

 

"You're right about that," Walter said, enfolding Alex in a bear hug. "I have everything I want in the world right here." 

 

End 

 

Happy Birthday Ursula!


End file.
